A Spell Broken - The 76th Hunger Games
by Red Roses1000
Summary: President Snow is still in full reign of Panem. The Victors know that someone must stop him. But how? Meanwhile, a new threat is arising: mentors are disappearing. Yet still the 76th Hunger Games must commence. Which tribute will survive the horrors of a dark forest? {AU - Closed SYOT}
1. Chapter 1 - Azuria Barslow

**Azuria Barslow**

 _ **Master of Ceremonies. 18 years old.**_

* * *

 **" _What if I back down now,_**

 **' _cause I'm afraid of what might happen,_**

 ** _What if they turn away,_**

 ** _when I show them who I truly am?"_**

* * *

Azuria Barslow had never been so nervous.

As her first year being Master of Ceremonies due to Caesar Flickerman retiring, she was expected to make a great show, so that everyone in Panem couldn't resist turning on their TV and tuning into her channel.

Her job at the moment was to interview last year's Victor, Lynx Maybelle.

 _Easy._ She told herself. _Take it easy._

Even as she tried to assure herself, pressure got the best of her. But she couldn't do anything about it.

The cameraman nodded to the young woman. "You're on in thirty seconds."

Azuria anxiously reached down to smoothen her snowflake white skater dress. She fiddled with the laurel wreath accessory in her hair. _Twenty seconds._

She twisted her silver bracelet around her wrist. _Ten seconds._

The young woman took a deep breath at exactly zero seconds and raced across the stage. The moment the audience had a view of her, the screams and cheers were deafening. Azuria resisted the urge to throw up, instead opting to flash her blinding white smile and held her microphone closer up to her face.

"Good evening, Panem!" Azuria yelled into the device. She waited for the crowd to calm down before continuing. "I'm Azuria Barslow, new Master of Ceremonies. The 76th Hunger Games is almost underway! And speaking of the Hunger Games, I'm here today with last year's Victor, Lynx Maybelle. In the 75th Hunger Games, Lynx braved the Quarter Quell where only 16 year olds were reaped. But this year she'll be mentoring. Give it up for District 10's Lynx Maybelle!"

On cue, the female Victor stepped out from the wings and onto the stage. She was dressed in a turquoise blue floor length gown, complete with gold jewelry. There were no signs of the scars Lynx had received during her time in the arena. Her waist length dark brown hair was twisted up into an intricate bun.

"Nice to see you, Lynx!" Azuria said cheerfully, and gestured to the love seats behind her. They both took their places in the chairs before the Capitol female continued to interview.

"How are you feeling this year, now that you have to mentor two tributes going into the arena?"

Lynx just snorted and rolled her eyes. "Let them die. Being a Victor isn't something you want to be."

The Capitol looked shocked. Azuria tried to mask her surprise. "Why would you say that?"

"You have to live with the blood of others on your hands."

The eighteen year old resumed the discussion, but inside, her head was spinning.

Maybe the Capitol wasn't as nice as she thought it was.

* * *

Later that night, Azuria entered her bedroom. She sat down at the desk she had there to think.

Her first gig hadn't done badly. At least, not to any Capitolite who was watching her. But to Azuria, she had finally understood something.

The Victors _suffered._ The Victors _regretted._

And the Victors were people just like herself.

Even some teens who wanted to be Victors, such as the Careers, discovered that the life they were living was not what they wanted when it was too late. Their family would be dead. Their friends would be dead. Everyone they loved would be gone - and as Lynx said, they would have to live with the blood of others on their hands. She wondered how they even managed to sleep at night, through all the nightmares. Nightmares of the arena, tributes, and blood would haunt their minds.

Azuria came to a conclusion. _The Hunger Games is wrong. The Capitol is wrong._

But if everything was wrong, what would be right?

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Azuria Barslow: "** _ **What If I Shine**_ " **(sung by** _ **Jordyn Kane**_ **)**

* * *

 **Welcome to my SYOT! In this universe, Primrose Everdeen managed to win the 74th Hunger Games at 12 years old, becoming the youngest Victor ever, replacing Finnick Odair's spot. Meanwhile, the Games went on as usual.** **So, this is my first fanfic and first attempt at writing a SYOT! If you don't know what a SYOT is, it stands for "Submit Your Own Tribute". T** **he form, rules, and open spots will be found on my profile.** **Please submit if you are reading this - and it would also really make my day if you review. Construction criticism is much appreciated, but please don't post a review just to be mean.** **I promise to never give up on this story. If I have to put it on hiatus for a while, I'll leave a note on my profile or let you know in some way. But I won't simply disappear. Also, keep in mind that I will only accept submissions through PM. I'm sorry, guest viewers, but I really do not want this story to be taken down.**

 **Thank you for reading, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Primrose Everdeen

**Chapter 2 - Posted on ( 3/7/16)**

* * *

 **Primrose Everdeen**

 _ **District 12 Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You've got the words to change a nation,**_

 _ **But you're biting your tongue,**_

 _ **You've spent a lifetime stuck in silence,**_

 _ **Afraid you'll say something wrong."**_

* * *

 _Finch. Cato. You killed them both._

Thoughts swirled around Prim's head. She tried to not think of anything negative as she ate her breakfast. It's nearly impossible. After all, Reaping Day was tomorrow. It's hard to stay positive when she knows she has to mentor two more tributes that will be in the arena.

 _Finch. Cato. You killed them both._

Mum stared at the blonde thoughtfully from across the table. "Are you feeling okay, Prim? You're not eating." It's a miracle she can even move around now. Before, she seemed in shock because of Father's death. But when Prim was in the arena, Katniss must've snapped some sense back into her. When Prim returned back to District 12 as Victor, Mum was mostly back to normal, maybe because she knows Prim'll be safe. It's Katniss' last year, but anyone doubts she'll be Reaped.

She nods. "I'm just thinking about, you know…" Her voice trailed off.

They immediately both feel awkward after that. Awkward about Primrose's kills in the arena. Prim knows killing Finch, the District 5 Female, was the right thing - she was poisoned somehow. When Prim came across the fox doppelganger, the latter was almost dead. She pleaded with the former 12 year old to kill her. Prim gave in, but she knew she ended her suffering. Cato was another story. He was trying to slaughter her, but killing him was kind of an accident. It was just self-defense. He had backed Prim into the Cornucopia and was about to strangle her, but the Everdeen managed to grab her knife and stabbed him.

After staring at each other for a few more moments, Prim cleared her throat. "I think I'm going to visit Haymitch now."

Mum nods and took away the full plate. Meanwhile, the 14 year old raced outside and to next door. The older Victor never locks his door, but she still thought it would be polite to knock.

"Hello? Haymitch, it's me, Prim."

When there's no answer, she pushed open the door a little bit. And when there's nothing suspicious, she went inside fully.

Prim ran to the living room first, where he's most likely zonked out. "Haymitch?" She called. "Haymitch!"

He wasn't in any of the other rooms, either.

There was no sign of him.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Primrose Everdeen: "** _ **Read All About It, Part lll**_ " **(sung by** _ **Emeli Sande**_ **)**

* * *

 **And we're back with Chapter 2! I hope you liked Prim here, and I also hope you enjoyed the little cliffhanger with Haymitch here. On another subject, we're almost ready to start to Reapings! This was the last prologue, I promise. I'm going to go in order, starting with District 1.**

 **I'm also wondering if someone wants to make a Weebly blog for this story. Write in your review if you would be able to do it or not. I'll be picking a person next chapter, if possible.**

 **Don't forget to submit, if you haven't already!**

 **Thank you for reading, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	3. Chapter 3 - District One Reapings

**Chapter 3 - Posted on ( 3/8/16)**

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

Outside Clarence's window, he had a perfect view of his front lawn. Perfect - just like him.

Clarence had a nice home - sure, his parents were middle class, but they were one of the better off ones. He had lots of friends - mostly followers, though. He could charm the ladies - he'd probably dump them within a week, though.. And lastly, he had superior sword skills.

Clarence squinted his blue eyes through the glass and could _just_ make out two figures walking down his street, both illuminated by moonlight. It was well past midnight, but he was more of a night person than an early bird.

The figures stopped in front of his house.

He watched, intrigued, as the shorter of the two, a pretty woman who was definitely not anyone he knew, gave the other a kiss on the cheek before the taller man continued into the house.

When Clarence could see more clearly, he wanted to scream.

 _His father._

* * *

Morning were always busy in the Reiss household. First came the smell of his mother cooking breakfast. Then came Clarence bounding down the stairs to eat before he head off to the Training Center. After that, his father came in, ready to eat before heading off to work with his wife.

 _Does my mom know?_ Clarence stared at his mother wordlessly as she made food. He wanted to share his father's secret to the word. He wanted to jump, and shout out that his father was going behind his mother's back with another woman. But for the sake of getting in trouble, he kept his mouth shut. His father didn't even know he was watching him last night.

"Big day, huh?" His mom, India Reiss, served the scrambled eggs onto her son's plate.

Clarence was planning on Volunteering. He would bring honor to District One. He shrugged, fork poised over his meal. "Sure is."

"When you're done eating, I got you a little something. I'll give it to you later."

That were his parents - always spoiling him. Since he was an only child, Clarence got a lot of attention. He liked it that way.

He cocked a brow, eager to see what he would receive later. Eating quickly, he stuffed the last of the egg in his mouth. "I'm ready."

India disappeared into another room, and emerged holding out a black suit with a crisp white shirt. With that went black dress shoes. "Do you like it?" She beamed. "New for the Reapings."

"A little parting gift from when you Volunteer." His father, Rhine, called from the table. "And you better come back."

Clarence looked at it with distaste. "It's good, I guess." He replied blandly. He thought he was too superior to treat his parents with respect. "Can you leave it on my bed? Thanks. I'm going to the training center!"

India and Rhine exchanged a look as Clarence walked out of the house. He may or may not be the future Victor, but he would get a scolding from them when he came home.

* * *

 **Jayda Newell**

 _ **District One Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You're hot and you're cold,**_

 _ **you're yes and you're no**_

 _ **You're in and you're out,**_

 _ **You're up and you're down."**_

* * *

 _Freak…_

 _Disgrace…_

 _Creep..._

These were common names for Jayda Newell. She was… _different_ , in ways others wouldn't expect.

Jayda was always _different,_ even when she was born. The 17 year old had a split personality, where one minute she'd be laughing and happy, and the next minute she'd be screaming her lungs out and crying. If you were constantly with her, you'd have to get used to it. But it'd be hard.

"Let's try that again." The trainer gently prodded her. Jayda raised her arms, equipped with her dual swords, and started to practice the routine again.

Her arms were decorated with black marker. Random designs covered the flesh. Jayda always dreamed of being a tattoo artist when she grew up, and therefore she practiced on herself. Hearts, stars, and logos covered, and there was barely any fair skin showing.

Once she finished, the trainer moved to work on the next person. Jayda glanced around the training center as she moved to wait in line for the archery station. At the sword station Jayda was just at, was Clarence Reiss. He was one of the most dangerous trainees around. Rumor had it that he was going to Volunteer this year. It was his last year being eligible for the Hunger Games, and he wasn't going to let that spotlight be taken from him.

Jayda would hopefully be his District partner. She had trained for these Games since she was 8 years old - when her parents enrolled her to possibly calm her mood swings. That antic worked for about a year, until she started to become her old self again. But since she had been training for 9 years, she was prepared. She had been waiting for this moment all her life, and Jayda would bring a Victor to the Newell family. Probably not that she'd have any chance - that Clarence was a beast.

"Jayda!"

She turned at the sudden call. Bouncing toward her was her best friend, Jasmine Clifford. Despite the 4 year old gap, Jasmine being younger, they got along very well. The 13 year old was a bubbly, carefree girl. She was naive and friendly to basically anyone. Jasmine had always looked up to Jayda because of the latter's dual sword skill.

"Hi, Jasmine!" Jayda answered. She was feeling stable that morning, after taking her pills to help with her mood swings.

"Excited for the Reapings?" Jasmine asked her. She wasn't much of a fighter, and didn't really have the heart to kill. Her best weapon was the javelin, but she was only okay at it. "You're still going to Volunteer, right?"

"You bet."

The two girls turned their attention to the archery station. Jayda was up next, and she took a bow from the equipment rack. Nocking an arrow in, she squeezed one eye shut. Letting the arrow fly, she was disappointed at where it made its mark. It was on the ring outside of the bull's eye. _It's not perfect._

She tried again, and it still hit the same place. Jayda stamped her foot in frustration.

"Ooh, is she mad?" A voice next to Jayda mocked her. She clenched her fists before turning to face them. It was Katarine Jewelsine, the most popular, sassy girl in her school. Behind Katarine was the gang that always followed her around

"I'm not mad." She tried to control her voice, but rage was evident in her tone.

"I think she is. Jayda's having another tantrum!" She said to her popular gang. They laughed sarcastically on cue. "You're a creep. No one likes you."

" _I'm not a creep!"_ Before the seventeen year old knew what she was doing, her fist collided with Katarine's face. Jayda stormed out of the Training Center angrily. Jasmine attempted to follow her, but couldn't catch up to the long strides.

"Jayda, hang on!" Her best friend panted. "Are you okay?"

The blonde teen opened her mouth. Her tone was a mixture of upset and hurt. "I'm going home, right now - and at the Reapings, I'm going to show up Katarine by Volunteering."

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

Clarence was stuck in line, next to his best friend Moone Klais and a young, brunette-haired 12 year old. The 12 year old was sure a weakling, but at least he was with Moone.

"You look nice." Moone commented to his friend. He himself was dressed in a black tuxedo.

Clarence had also slicked back his hair with gel. "I do, don't I. When I Volunteer, the cameras will focus on me and all the girls would swoon."

Next, he got his finger pricked and headed to the 18 year old section. He had to part ways with Moone, who was only 17 years old. Once he got to his section, he was pretty much all the way in the back. Unfortunately, he was a little late.

"Hello, District One!" A voice trilled from the stage. Clarence looked in that direction and saw their escort, Atlanta Gold. Much like her last name, she had golden blonde hair, which was probably fake. She was dressed in a mint green outfit, with a bow at the waist. "I'm Atlanta Gold, your escort. Before we Reap our lucky tributes this year, the mayor would like to say a few things."

The mayor stepped up to the podium and said a few things. A speech, and the Treaty of Treason. Once he was done, it was the time Clarence had been waiting for. The time he'd been waiting for his whole life.

"Male tributes first this year." Atlanta announced, strutting over to their bowl, those high heels of hers clicking across the stage. She fished out a slip. Clarence desperately hoped it wasn't his name in there, or he couldn't Volunteer. "Our male tribute is...Silhouette Ignite!"

A 16 year old boy barely moved before Clarence shouted the words he wanted to shout for so long: "I Volunteer!"

He ran toward the stage, easily beating out a few boys who joined in the sprint as well. Wimps. Once he arrived, he winked at Atlanta and spoke into the microphone. "I'm Clarence Reiss, 18 years old. I'm going to be your Victor this year, so remember that name."

Atlanta smiled and blushed. "Nice to meet you. Our male tribute, Clarence Reiss!" The audience politely applauded.

"For the girl tribute...would Shade Platinum please come to the stage?"

A ripple was sent through the 12 year old line, and a girl emerged. He easily recognized Shade as the girl he was standing behind in line to get his finger pricked.

Two voices rang out at the same time. "I Volunteer!"

There were two girls dashing to be the female representative. Both came from the 17 year old line. One girl had a slight advantage; she was wearing black flats while the other girl was wearing six inch heels. And like water always beats fire, flats always beat heels. The teen wearing flats got to the stage first.

"Jayda Newell." She said. Clarence remembered her as one of those girls from the Training Center. She was kinda weird; black marker was drawn all over her arms, and she always had mood swings. Other than that, right now she was dressed in a long-sleeved, knee-length bright blue dress. Her blonde hair was loose.

Atlanta waited for her to say something else, but Jayda kept quiet. She shrugged, and announced into the mic. "Your tributes for the 76th Hunger Games: Clarence Reiss and Jayda Newell!"

They were escorted into the Justice Building, unaware that from that moment on, their lives were in danger.

* * *

 **Jayda Newell**

 _ **District One Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You're hot and you're cold,**_

 _ **you're yes and you're no**_

 _ **You're in and you're out,**_

 _ **You're up and you're down."**_

* * *

"Honey, I love you. You can do this - you can win it." Jayda's mother really went straight to the point. Jayda had been barely there for ten seconds before the door had banged open.

In response, Jayda leaned close to her parents and shared a big hug with them. It might've been the final group hug they ever shared.

"Go join the Careers, but sneak away Top 10." Her father advised. "Go solo after that."

Jayda nodded absentmindedly, but her mind was racing. She couldn't believe she finally Volunteered - and beat Katarine as well.

Her parents coached her on what she should do if she got in various situations. Soon though, their time was up, and they had to go. Jayda hugged both her mother and father separately before they headed off. Her mother was caring and was always nice to her. She had a neutral relationship with her father, on the other hand. He was getting a little exasperated around her now.

Next, Jasmine came through the door excitedly. "Hey! You did it!" She yelled, happy for her friend. "I can't wait to see you coming back - with the Victor's crown!"

They gossiped about the Capitol and the latest trends there. Towards the end, though, Jasmine's eyes started to tear up.

"If you don't make it back, remember me in the arena." She whispered. "Promise."

"I promise." Jayda told her. "But I won't have to do that, because I'll be coming back."

"Time's up." Called the Peacekeeper outside in a gruff manner. Jasmine gave her best friend one last hug before darting out the door.

Jayda would have to make it back - for her family and for Jasmine.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Clarence Reiss:** " _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by** _ **Taylor Swift)**_

 **Jayda Newell:** " _ **Hot 'N' Cold"**_ **(sung by** _ **Katy Perry)**_

* * *

 **Shoutout to** dreams and desperation **for Clarence, and** flowersnowgirl **for Jayda. Who did you like better? Who has a better chance at winning? Also, let me know if I had any grammatical errors in this chapter. By the way, another shoutout goes to** Astronaughty, **who will be creating my Weebly blog! I hope you liked the District 1 Reapings. For the next District, I still need the male (it's reserved right now, so be sure to submit, calebeers21). I'll be back soon with District 2!**


	4. Chapter 4 - District Two Reapings

**Chapter 4 - Posted on ( 3/10/16)**

* * *

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 _ **District Two Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Two feet below the surface**_

 _ **I can still make out your wavy face,  
and if I could just reach you **_

_**maybe I could leave this place."**_

* * *

Hestia Gabbro was an underdog.

Instead of beginning training at the age of 7 or 8 like many other District 2 citizens, she started at age 10. She was still on the same level as the other tribute-wannabes, two years late or not. Her skill shown as she batted away Bethany Smither's spear with her own machete. Hestia also succeeded in making her opponent stumble backwards and fall.

"I won - 12th win for me." She announced, helping her friend up. "Better step up your game, Smither."

"Hey, you're Volunteering today, not me." Bethany informed Hestia. Their loud, arguing voices filled the empty training room. They were pretty much the only ones there. The duo still had some time until the usual crowd of trainees came in. If Hestia's estimates were right, they would be there in twenty minutes.

"True - because I'm better than you, that's why."

"Oh, be quiet."

Hestia told the black haired girl that she would catch up with her later, before promptly jogging home. Her parents would be expecting her anytime soon, though if she was late they would infer that she was training extra.

While running to her house, the 18 year old enjoyed feeling the soft breeze whisper through the air. She ran on this path from the Training Center so many times before, she could go on with her eyes closed.

Arriving quickly, she pulled open the front door and immediately felt relaxed as she entered the place she called _home._ Hestia's family was well-off in the District. They could afford nice furniture, and they had two floors. Even though she and her sister had to share a bedroom, at least they didn't have to share it with their father Gaius, who snored when he slept. And snored loudly at that.

"I'm here!" She yelled out. The smell of food greeted her; meat and mutton from the trading post.

"Hi, honey!" Her mother called back. She hurried into the hallway to greet her youngest daughter. "Hurry - you musn't be late when you Volunteer." She gave her a serene smile.

It was hard to give in to Petra. She was kind and caring, always convincing you with her sweet antics. Petra was the real reason Hestia was this year's female Volunteer. Eight years ago, she persuaded her daughter into training. This year, when Hestia was offered the spot as female tribute, she almost declined but her mother somehow managed to make her say yes.

Hestia exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, but in a playful manner. "Mom, there's still a few hours until Reapings."

The two members of the family trotted into the kitchen, where Gaius Gabbro and Hera Gabbro already were. She joined them by sitting down and grabbing a nearby, unused plate.

Sitting next to Hera, Hestia felt it was a tight squeeze. Hera was her sister, at 23 years old, and she was six months pregnant. Hestia would either have a nephew or a niece, but either way she would be an aunt.

Hera and her got along closer than some, but it was getting harder and harder to interact with her these nowadays. Hera was always moody and cranky due to the pregnancy.

Gaius was...difficult to live with. He was an annoying father, to least to Hestia, and she couldn't tell why her father lived with him.

He was a reckless adrenaline junkie, who picked fights with her all the time for the sake of it. Gaius was good-looking enough, she supposed, so it was possible Petra might've married him for looks.

"I won twelve matches against Bethany. Twelve out of 15." She boasted to her family.

"That's nice, hon." Petra replied.

Hera just grunted.

"You lost three?" Gaius asked her mockingly.

"Can you just quit it?" Hestia shot back. She didn't want to get mad, but she could feel heat rising to her face.

"Twelve matches out of fifteen. You lost three. Maybe it's a waste of time, sending you to the Training Center."

"It's not! Can you be quiet?" Hestia asked angrily. She glanced at her mother and sister, waiting for them to side with her, but they remained neutral.

"Don't speak to your father that way!"

"And don't speak to your daughter that way!" Hestia slammed her fork on the plate. "Please excuse me - I think I lost my appetite."

She rushed upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door.

* * *

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 _ **District Two Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being**_

 _ **confident."**_

* * *

Vulcan awoke to his father leaning over him.

"Honestly, how can you be future mayor when you are oversleeping." Hector Hardy scoffed, pointing to the clock. It was an hour before the Reaping.

Vulcan ignored the comment and hopped out of the bed. He didn't have to clean it - his maids could do that for him.

He was the mayor's son - and he hated it. He preferred feeling the adrenaline of the battle, getting caught up in the heat of the moment. Vulcan was passable with a tomahawk though he liked using his fists.

"I'm going out for thirty minutes," Vulcan pulled a leather jacket and some street clothes on, "and preparing for the Reaping after that. Capiche?"

"You'll miss lessons!" His father replied, his motto being, _words are better than swords._

"I just really don't care about lessons, okay?" Vulcan snapped, opening the door to his bedroom. Before his father could contrast to what he said, Vulcan darted down the mansion stairs and out the front door.

The fresh air was like a savior - he disliked being cooped up inside. Outdoors he felt free and energetic.

He broke into a jog, and ran past the town square, where they were setting up for the Reapings. He turned right down a dark alleyway, but he wasn't afraid. He knew what he was doing.

"Took your time, eh?" A mysterious voice came from the darkness.

Out of the shadows came a young woman same age as him. She had a different aura around her; she was definitely not from District 2. Her platinum blonde hair, in a high ponytail at the moment, gave that away.

"I overslept, okay, Lynn?" He addressed the girl.

Lynn rolled her stormy gray eyes - another aspect telling she was not from District 2 - and lead him deeper into the alleyway. At the very back, there was a door. She opened it.

The room in front of the two wasn't that big. It was on the small side. It had no furniture, not anything, just wood flooring.

Even though it was simple, this room was a second home to Vulcan Hardy. He could easily recognize the people there: friendly Hermes, his best friend; shy, intelligent Kiera; organized, perfectionist Marie, and adventure-seeking, daring Tyler. And of course, mysterious, shadowy Lynn.

None of which were from the District, with the exception of Hermes.

They came from Districts 3, 6, 8, and 9 respectively. They were on the run. _They were rebels._

"Okay, now that Vulcan's here, let's start." Lynn announced, and joined the circle everyone was already in. Vulcan sat next to Hermes, who was saving him a spot.

Kiera pulled some important blueprints from the backpack next to her. "I got these from the Peacekeeper headquarters." She may be quiet, but she could use that to her advantage to stealthily sneak into places.

"What places are we planning to torch?" Tyler asked their leader. He tapped his hands against his legs. He could never stay still for long.

Lynn said in reply, "Capitol-owned stores. Make our targets close to each other, and make sure we can get away fast."

Marie nodded, ever the strategist. She folded up the maps and creased them perfectly - to her, nothing was allowed to be out of place. "I'll work on our plan of attack after Reapings."

"Hermes, Tyler, Vulcan - make sure we have enough torches to burn down a few stores." Their blonde haired boss set her jaw. "We're going to start a rebellion."

* * *

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 _ **District Two Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Two feet below the surface**_

 _ **I can still make out your wavy face,  
and if I could just reach you **_

_**maybe I could leave this place."**_

* * *

Tension was hanging around the air as Hestia stood in the 18 year old section. The _pro_ of being early was that she was in the front, but the _con_ was that she had to wait a long time for the Reapings to start.

Hestia was well-dressed in a long silver dress that reached to the floor. She also wore golden flats, and to accessorize, a golden rose barrette was placed on the side of her head. Her curly brown hair, which fell to her mid-back, was now up in a messy bun.

While waiting for the escort to prepare, she glanced around. The weather was bright and and warm. The sun peeked out from it's highest point in the sky, and the sky was blue with no clouds in sight.

She waved at Arabella Crawford, her best friend. Arabella was a year younger than her at 17 years old, but that didn't stop them from being best friends. The saying _opposites attract_ really described their relationship; Arabella was a quiet girl who was often dismissed easily while Hestia was a loud, spunky daredevil. No one really knew why they got along or why they hung out, but all anyone knew was that they really hit it off.

Now turning behind her, the Reaping Square was filling up quickly. People of all ages, genders, and races walked in. Everyone had a chance to be Reaped, but as for the females, they would be safe from the arena this year. Hestia would be Volunteering.

"H-hello District 2." A voice through the microphone stammered. It was a new escort - they had an old man last year. He must have retired. This escort was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties. She had black hair with a cobalt blue streak running down the side of her head. Her eyes were the same color as the streak in her hair. "I-I'm Amelia Flutter, y-your n-new escort. L-let's listen t-to our mayor g-give the Treaty of T-Treason, then we-we'll start the Reapings." Amelia walked off to the side, probably relieved that the first part was over.

Our mayor, Hector Hardy, read out the Treaty of Treason. Today he was sounding a bit ticked off - maybe something happened earlier this morning that upsetted him.

That tension was still hanging in there as Amelia headed to the boy's Reaping bowl. She pulled out a slip on top with her perfect golden manicured hand, and brought it close to her face. She studied the name, and announced in the microphone, "V-Vulcan Hardy."

In the 18 year old section, a muscular boy stirred, but didn't walk up to the stage. He was waiting for someone to Volunteer.

 _But no one did._

Hestia thought, _weird. We always have Volunteers - maybe the Volunteer chickened out._

After ten seconds of just standing there, Vulcan sauntered up to the stage, and smirked at the camera. Even though he was Reaped, he was good looking, and put on a good show for anyone watching.

"V-Vulcan H-Hardy?" Amelia asked. Vulcan nodded for confirmation.

After waiting several moments for a Volunteer, and not getting one, she moved onto the girl's Reaping bowl. Amelia dug around, and right before she picked a name, Vulcan purposely knocked over the bowl. Strips of paper went around in a flurry, and it looked like a snowstorm. Amelia squeaked, and after a short dilemma, decided not to waste time picking up each name. She bent down and got a slip that was by her feet. "Bethany S-Smither!"

Hestia gasped, knowing there was only one Bethany Smither in the District, and that was her friend. But the short surprise didn't stop her from calling out: "I Volunteer as Tribute!"

Those four words sealed her fate. She rushed to the stage and got there before anyone else. Climbing the steps, she felt strangely powerful, like she could conquer anything. "The name's Hestia Gabbro." She said loudly and clearly. She stood straight and tall - straight and tall, like a true Career should. "And I'm going to be your next Victor. Watch out world, because I'm coming for you."

The applause was deafening. Hestia shook hands with Vulcan they headed into the Justice Building.

But even if they were Careers, were they really safe?

* * *

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 _ **District Two Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being**_

 _ **confident."**_

* * *

Vulcan breathed. _In, out. In, out._

What had happened to the original selected Volunteer? Why did he get Reaped? His odds of getting chosen as the male tribute was slim. Slim to none.

The door banged open soon after he arrived inside his assigned room. Hermes stood there, with a blank expression on his face.

Vulcan tipped his head toward Hermes. "I don't know why I got Reaped. What happened to the Volunteer?"

Hermes shrugged. "Doesn't matter - the point is, are _you_ going to be okay?" Though his tone was chill, his eyes held a sense of fear.

"I think so." Vulcan mentally repeated, _in, out._ "Just - don't expect me to come back."

Hermes nodded. They shared a "man hug", before his best friend headed out and closed the door. It would be the last he ever saw of him, most likely.

The next visitor was Vulcan's father. Hector didn't say anything. He just walked up to Vulcan and slipped him a ring before walking out.

The eighteen year old studied the ring further. He remembered seeing it around his father's finger all the time. It his was father's special wedding ring with his mother.

Vulcan shakily slid it onto his ring finger and waited for the next visitors, if any.

The next person to come through the door was surprising. It wasn't anyone related to him or anyone close to him; it was Lynn.

Lynn walked up to him and said four simple words that chilled his soul: "Don't mess this up."

After Lynn left, Vulcan had goose bumps. Was she involved in him getting Reaped somehow?

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Hestia Gabbro:** " _ **I Do Not Want This"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nine Inch Nails)**_

 **Vulcan Hardy: "** _ **Confident"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

* * *

 **Hey! Anyway, I hope you liked District 2! I don't think this was my best work** _ **ever**_ **, but it'll do.**

 **Thanks to** Mystical Pine Forest **for Hestia, and** calebbeers21 **for Vulcan! The usual questions: Who has a better chance in the arena? Who do you like better? Also, how do you think they will interact with Clarence and Jayda? So far, who do you want to lead the alliance?**

 **Thanks for all your kind and positive reviews! It puts a smile on my face when I read how supportive your comments are.**

 **Soon we will travel to District 3! Buckle up your seatbelts, because this will be a bumpy ride.**


	5. Chapter 5 - District Three Reapings

**Chapter Five - Posted on ( 3/13/16)**

* * *

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 _ **District Three Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I just wanna make you proud,**_

 _ **I'm never gonna be good enough for you,**_

 _ **I can't stand another fight,**_

 _ **and nothing's alright."**_

* * *

"You missed a spot."

Eudora never liked hearing the disapproving voice of her client, Amber Torvald. Dora was easily crushed by the slightest hint of disapproval, but she tried not to let it show as she nodded and brought her mop to the spot Mrs. Torvald had pointed at.

"And when you're done, you can fold the laundry." She added before walking away, her high heels clicking against the floor with every step.

Dora had spent her whole life being bossed around. It was hard with the Torvald family, with the exception of their daughter, but it was even harder at home. Her mother, Nina, hated her. Her father, Hugo, was barely home. And to top it off, she was overshadowed by her brothers and sisters. They were considered "normal". And she, Eudora Macintosh, was not.

Physically speaking, there was nothing wrong with her. She had all working body parts; two arms, two legs, two greenish-blue eyes. But medically speaking, she was mentally retarded.

Explanations tend to fly over her head, and she has to read something ten times before it sinks in. She can't spell, solve math equations, or assemble a toy to save her life. Dora doesn't like to say it, but she is an imbecile. She is a foolish, empty-headed, deficient imbecile who can't reach District 3 standards.

Dora sighed and continued to mop the spot on the floor. Her heart wasn't really into it.

When she finished all the chores Mrs. Torvald assigned her, the fourteen year old got stale bread in return and a few cents. That was it - only a few cents to support a family of five. Dora had a mother, a father, a younger brother, and a younger sister. They _used_ to be a family of six.

Eudora had never been the best at anything. She was born to a lower-class family as the eldest daughter. She had a twin - Bertrand Macintosh. The key word was _had._ Her parents married young and came from poverty themselves, so of course they pinned their hopes on the futures of their children. At first, there seemed to be no difference between them, but as the children grew older it became much more obvious. When Dora's twin brother learned to speak in complete sentences, she was still babbling incoherently. When he learned to spell his name, she couldn't even hold a pencil. And when she held her pencil, she couldn't write with it. They took her to the local doctor, but he couldn't tell what was wrong with her. She wasn't blind or deaf, and she looked perfectly healthy. Whatever the reason, her parents distanced themselves and focused more on their normal child. They meant well, but they were ignorant about health, and they had little patience with what they didn't know. When a bacterial infection spread through their neighborhood, both children caught it and almost died of it. Bertrand, the normal twin, was ultimately killed by meningitis, but Dora survived with little outward damage. The doctor said ruefully that she was lucky to be alive, but to her parents it was anything but. In some way, they were right. The disease had damaged her brain further, rendering her unable to understand complex information or complete simple tasks most people take for granted. In a district so dependent on the expertise of its people, Dora was a liability. Children made fun of her, and teachers ignored her. When she turned fourteen, her mother pulled her out of school so she could work as a household help.

Now that Bertrand - bubbly, intelligent, friendly Bertrand - was gone, Dora was ignored.

 _She was nothing._

She sighed heavily once more, waved goodbye to the Torvald family one last time, and walked back home, where her mother and father would be waiting.

* * *

 **Huxley Cathode**

 _ **District Three Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You seem to replace,**_

 _ **Your brain with your heart,**_

 _ **You take things so hard,**_

 _ **and then you fall apart."**_

* * *

Huxley's life was one huge secret.

He wasn't like anyone he knew, and no one he knew was like him. To everyone he was just average - just another head in the back of the classroom. The worst thing was he couldn't tell anyone that he was different - that he was dyslexic.

Everything, every word to Huxley was just like one blur - he couldn't read, he couldn't write, and whenever he stared at words they drifted off the paper.

Being dyslexic was hard. He had to act smart in a District of geniuses. He wasn't a genius - he was anything but. No one knew about his disease, but they thought he was just plain dumb. He kind of _was_ plain dumb, too, but the main problem was the dyslexia.

Huxley stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. His room was nothing impressive - it was painted white but the paint was chipping. Nothing much was there except the basic bedroom furniture, such as a bed and a simple wooden chair. But that was it. His family wasn't very well off. His parents worked in computer factories to design new types of software for the Capitol, but it didn't pay well.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Huxley curiously popped up from his laying position on the bed. "Come in," He said cautiously.

It was just his mother. Telle Cathode was his 42 year old mother. She was a very kind woman, but had high expectations for her son. When Huxley couldn't reach her expectations she would often get mad at him. "Reapings are today." She told him, perching gently on the foot of the bed.

He nodded. At 13 years old, he didn't have much to worry about. He did have five slips in, though, due to taking some tesserae. When he got older he would gradually get more nervous, for more slips would be put into that Reaping bowl.

"Get ready soon, okay?" Telle kissed him on the top of his head before leaving. She closed the door softly behind her.

When she was gone, Huxley got up and went to his closet. His clothes were nice but nothing to write home about. The closest thing he could find for fancy pants were denim jeans, but at least they weren't tattered. He put on a white button-up shirt, the one he also wore last year for the Reapings. He wasn't growing much - he was 5'5", which was pretty short for a boy. Black sneakers clad his feet.

He shrugged. _It would have to do._ The shirt was still a little big on him, since his build was like a stick. He was not well-fed, being poor and all, and he was very skinny. His resemblance to a stick was growing steadily each day he didn't eat a lot of food.

Huxley went to his cupboard to get the grain he could eat for breakfast. When he looked, though, there was no more left - his parents must've been eating some of his.

Figures.

* * *

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 _ **District Three Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I just wanna make you proud,**_

 _ **I'm never gonna be good enough for you,**_

 _ **I can't stand another fight,**_

 _ **and nothing's alright."**_

* * *

Dora stared dumbfounded at the lady who just pricked her finger. "Where did you say I go again?"

The lady groaned. _I thought District 3 was supposed to be smart._ She thought. Nevertheless, she repeated her statement for the third time. "Go to the 14 year old section. _The 14 year old section."_ She emphasized the last five words.

The younger of the two tried to process it. When she finally did, she laughed at herself for being so clueless. "Oh. Okay. Thanks!" Dora giggled and walked to her correct spot. When she strolled near two girls in her section with makeup coated all over their faces, they put their heads together and started gossiping.

"Isn't that Eudora Macintosh? The mentally challenged one?"

"Yeah, I think so. Didn't she drop out of school?"

 _No, my mother pulled me out. It wasn't my choice,_ Eudora wanted to correct the two. But for the sake of it, she remained quiet and calm to wait for the Reapings to start.

They started off same as normal. The escort introduced himself - it was the same boring old man they have had for the past ten years. The Treaty of Treason was read - Dora tried to pay attention to it but just couldn't.

Finally, it was the time everyone had been waiting for. _The Reapings._

As the aged Capitol man placed his hand in the female Reaping bowl, every 12 through 18 year old girl waited in horror as he separate one single name from the rest.

Squinting at the name, the old escort declared in a monotone, "Eudora Macintosh."

 _Oh, good. I'm safe for another year._ She thought to herself giddily. But she had thought too soon. When Dora wrapped her mind around the fact that it was her name called, she gasped with dread. District 3 had Victors, but they barely came back, and it was very rare when one did. Eudora began the _long_ walk to the stage. It seemed ever longer, especially since she was moving slow. It was hard to move; she was trembling like a leaf, looking down at the ground. She pretended to be interested in her shoes.

Dora didn't cry, oddly enough, but when she mounted the stage, she was still shaking. She shook her head frantically at the escort when he tried to offer her the microphone. No, no, no. Dora wanted to prove everyone wrong that she was not just a mentally retarded teen, but on the other hand she knew in her heart that it was impossible.

Everything went by in a blur after that. The male was called. She missed the name for she wasn't paying attention, but she caught a glimpse of dark hair and piercing blue-gray eyes as her District partner tried to run away **.** A Peacekeeper caught him with little effort and dragged him to stand next to Dora.

"Your tributes for the 76th Annual Hunger Games - Eudora Macintosh and Huxley Cathode!"

Oh, that's what his name was.

* * *

 **Huxley Cathode**

 _ **District Three Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You seem to replace,**_

 _ **Your brain with your heart,**_

 _ **You take things so hard,**_

 _ **And then you fall apart."**_

* * *

Huxley's mind was reeling from what happened. Thoughts raced around, doing aerials in his brain.

 _I was Reaped. I was Reaped. I was Reaped…_

He still couldn't believe it. It was too hard to believe. At 13 years old, with only a few slips, he was Reaped for the Games. He was a weak, scrawny boy with no chance of winning. He would most likely die.

Huxley let himself be wrapped in his parents arms as they cried and screamed. He was an only child. They had no more children - they had nothing to look forward to when they got home. The house would be empty. Everyone would forget him, and they would only have the vaguest memory of who he was. " _Remember that kid, what was his name...Huxley? Huxley Cathode."_

He pulled away from the hug. "On the bright side, you don't have another mouth to feed." He tried to be optimistic.

His mother slapped his arm. "Did I raise you like that? No! You're coming back - you have to."

Dysk, husband to Telle and father to Huxley, nodded in agreement awkwardly. He was never home from work much, and so he didn't get to spend a lot of time around his son.

When the Peacekeeper called _time's up,_ his mother was holding onto Huxley's arm so tight he think we might've got a bruise. She thrust string into his hands. "This was mine when I was younger." She said. "Keep it as your token. I love you so much - I'm proud of you."

The door closed between them, separating them forever.

A tear slipped down Huxley's face as he looked at the string. It wasn't actually string at all - it was a bracelet. An electric blue chip was on it, probably as a design.

 _I love you too, Mom._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh: "** _ **Perfect"**_ **(sung by** _ **Simple Plan)**_

 **Huxley Cathode:** " _ **Crybaby"**_ **(sung by** _ **Melanie Martinez)**_

* * *

 **I'm back! I hope you enjoyed District Three. Sorry this took so long. Same questions as before.**

 **Anyway, next chapter is the last Career Reapings! We'll move on to the rest of the Districts afterwards. I hope you enjoy these Reaping chapters - they are repetitive but I don't have any other way of introducing them. Just hang in there!**


	6. Chapter 6 - District Four Reapings

**Chapter 6 - Posted on ( 3/14/16)**

* * *

 **Ebony Williams**

 _ **District Four Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm,**_

 _ **And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold,**_

 _ **My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones,**_

 _ **It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me."**_

* * *

The sound of tridents clashing accompanied the war cry of Ebony's older sister, Marina, and the shout of pain from her younger brother, Dylan.

Marina, quick and agile, danced around, avoiding attacks. She thrust her trident in front of Dylan's throat.

"It's obvious Marina won." Their mother announced to the two. She turned to Dylan. "Dear, let's work on your stance."

Dylan shook his head. "Maybe you should work on Ebony now."

Ebony smiled in relief, ready to get into the feel of the battle. Dylan was pretty much the only relative who liked her - she was overshadowed by Marina. Ebony was not much different from her, though. They both were trained and determined to become Victor of the Hunger Games. This year, Marina was the chosen Volunteer for the District 4 Female. Ebony was steaming mad when she heard that - after tryouts for the female spot, she heard the judges almost chose her, but chose Marina instead.

Ebony got into position with her flail. No trident for her - she liked using other sorts of weapons. Besides, she wanted to be different from her siblings.

After practicing for a while, and winning a few rounds, Ebony threw her weapon aside and straightened up. Her body was exhausted from all the training, but she didn't admit it. After all, future Victors couldn't admit that they were tired.

Ebony walked a short distance from the Training Center to the sandy beach. The beach was littered with seashells. Conch shells, sand dollars, anything. She walked closer to the edge of the ocean, enjoying the wind blow through her curly blonde hair. The salt water tickled her toes, and the smell of the beach always refreshed her mind.

Ebony's thoughts slipped away as she watched the sun rise high in the sky. The blonde female lost track of time and the clock ticked away as she stared up at the universe. She forgot about all her worries and all her doubts as she breathed in the scenic view.

It was beautiful. It was motivating. It was encouraging.

She was ready to get to work again.

Ebony took one last view of the orange sky. She might've sounded foolish, but she whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

 **Bay Riverside**

 _ **District Four Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Today I don't feel like doing anything,**_

 _ **I just wanna lay in my bed,**_

 _ **Don't feel like picking up my phone,**_

 _ **So leave a message at the tone."**_

* * *

Nothing in the world was worse than the _beep-beep_ of Bay's alarm clock. _Nothing in the world._

He reached over the edge of his bed and angrily threw the alarm clock across the room. Bay succeeded in making it hit the far wall, but it kept beeping.

"Wow." He muttered to himself, groggily getting out of his warm twin bed. His family wasn't rich nor poor - they were just in the middle. Bay's parents could afford a queen bed for him if he wanted to, but he didn't really care.

The 17 year old shut off the alarm clock calmly like he should've done in the first place, and lazily threw on a random outfit from his closet. He was going to the Training Center.

Yes, Bay _did_ only have 30 minutes until the Reapings - he was a slugabed, an oversleeper. But the Training Center was right around the corner anyway, and it was an important day for him. He was going to Volunteer.

Ever since witnessing Finnick Odair's win when he was 7 years old, Bay knew that going into the Hunger Games was what he wanted to do. He would win for fame, money, and riches. Bay had been enrolled into an advanced class when he was just 8. He was one of the most muscular people around District 4, and he got put into a class with people one year older than him. They would pick on him and tease him a lot, but Bay would just shrug it off. Let them pick on him - let them waste their energy. Meanwhile, _he_ would spend _his_ energy training.

He waltzed into his kitchen and grabbed an apple to munch on, on his way to the Training Center. His mother and father were there already, seated at the table. "Hey, parental units." He joked.

His mother, Molly, frowned. "Going to the Center?" She asked. She didn't really approve of her son's plans of Volunteering, but she couldn't do anything about it. She knew she should just support Bay on whatever he wanted to do.

"Yep." Bay replied and gave them quick hugs.

Moments later, he arrived at the Training Center. He threw open the glass double doors and breathed in the great smell of sweat. He smiled to himself - he loved training.

In the far corner, he spotted Marina Williams. She was dangerous. She was competition for him, and she bested his skills. They were going to be District Partners this year, if they both made it to the stage first.

Bay made his way over to the spears, his favorite weapon. When he threw it a few moments later, it landed perfectly on bull's eye.

Yep - Bay was definitely ready for the 76th Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Ebony Williams**

 _ **District Four Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm,**_

 _ **And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold,**_

 _ **My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones,**_

 _ **It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me."**_

* * *

Ebony was late. Now she was forced to stand in the very back of the 17 year old section, while her sister had a better chance to getting to the stage first. Marina was located in the front.

 _Please, please, please let me make it to the stage in time._ Ebony hoped desperately.

The Reapings started off without a hitch. Their escort was Remi Layton, a 29 year old redhead they had for three years now. She was pretty cool - she made jokes and was nice to the tributes. Remi was a kind soul.

Ebony zoned out for the Treaty or Treason - it was boring anyway. After a short speech from the mayor, it was just a short while until she would officially be the female tribute.

"So, your female tribute is…" Remi peered at the name closely. "Evangeline Dew."

"I Volunteer as tribute!" Voices rang out as a stampede of girls rushed to the stage. With a smirk, Marina was whizzing to the steps.

Time went in slow motion for Ebony. Marina was coming closer and closer and closer to the stage…

" _No!"_ Ebony shouted and, as a last resort, poured on the speed before tackling her sister. Marina went down, and the 17 year old seized that chance to hurry to Remi.

"That was quite impressive!" Remi commented, glancing at Marina, sprawled on the steps of the stage. "Your name is…?"

"Ebony Williams, your Victor." Ebony smiled charmingly at the cameras. They were capturing her every move.

Remi beamed. "I like your name. Anyhow, we must continue. The lucky boy is...Walsh Winters!"

A male's voice announced, "I Volunteer." The same teen came sprinting to the stage, and fortunately for him, he came first. "My name is Bay Riverside." He said with a nod.

"Your tributes this year: Bay Riverside and Ebony Williams!"

Ah, hearing that was music to her ears.

* * *

 **Bay Riverside**

 _ **District Four Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Today I don't feel like doing anything,**_

 _ **I just wanna lay in my bed,**_

 _ **Don't feel like picking up my phone,**_

 _ **So leave a message at the tone."**_

* * *

Bay's time zipped by as if no time had passed. His parents had come and gone. His best friend in the whole wide world, Penelope, had just left.

Penelope was like the little sister he never had. Being one day apart in age, him being older, they were inseparable. She may seem like a shy introvert to people who don't know her very well, but the truth is that she is a talkative chatterbox once she opens up to you. Living just a few houses down the street from his, Penelope knew the Riverside family like she knew her own.

Bay twisted his bracelet around his wrist. He's always worn it and barely takes it off - it was special to him, for Penelope gave it to him for his 15th birthday. It was woven with leather, with pieces of seashell and seaweed tied to it.

A loud sound made him jump. He scampered to the door and opened it _ever_ so slightly. The door across the hall from his was Ebony's, his District partner.

The door was open.

Inside the room, Ebony and another girl who highly resembled her were locked in a shouting match. Bay recognized her as Marina Williams, the chosen Volunteer for this year. _Wait...if she was the chosen Volunteer why did Ebony Volunteer instead?_

Marina slugged Ebony across the face, which led Ebony to punch her nose. Bay watched in awe as blood dripped from the 18 year old's face. Ebony didn't even know her own strength.

The Peacekeepers came to break up the fight, and soon after that they collected Bay to take him to the train station. But Bay wasn't really paying attention, for one thought was flickering in his mind.

 _If Ebony can do that to the chosen Volunteer, then I'm doomed._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Ebony Williams: "** _ **Yellow Flicker Beat"**_ **(sung by** _ **Lorde)**_

 **Bay Riverside: "** _ **The Lazy Song"**_ **(sung by** _ **Bruno Mars)**_

* * *

 **Same questions!**

 **Also, the blog is** _ **almost**_ **done, so expect that soon.**

 **If you want a good SYOT to submit to, you should submit to "Head The Wind Blow" by Mystical Pine Forest. I promise her writing won't let you down!**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and please give me feedback on my writing :)**


	7. Chapter 7 - District Five Reapings

**Chapter 7 - Posted on (3/16/16)**

* * *

 **Kinsie Surge**

 _ **District 5 Female. 12 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad,**_

 _ **The craziest friend that you've ever had,**_

 _ **You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone,**_

 _ **Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong."**_

* * *

Kinsie paced up and down the small bedroom she and her mother had to share. There was no denying it - they were one of the poorest families in all of District 5. Kinsie would be the first to admit it, after all.

She hated her life.

To top everything off, her father divorced her perfectly fine mother. Kinsie knew most of the fights were centered around her, even though she wasn't involved in any of them.

Years ago, Conner Surge, older brother to Kinsie, was Reaped for the Games. It was nearly impossible that he would get Reaped at 13 years old, but by some kind of evil magic, it happened.

Conner wasn't exactly good at anything in particular, but worked his way around learning the art of the bow and arrow.

His training score was a 7, which was high for outer District Tributes.

He had a strong, loyal, trustworthy alliance who would protect him along the hardships he would face in the arena.

Conner Surge stood a chance. Linnore and Jasper, his mother and father, allowed themselves a little hope that he could possibly return.

Then disaster struck.

Conner was killed on the second to last day in the arena, chased by wolf mutts. He had a gory death - he was torn to shreds by their claws.

He ultimately placed 8th.

Even though Kinsie was young at the time, she could never forget the look on her brother's face as he died. It held such pain.

After his death, the Surge couple started getting into more and more fights, each one getting more intense. The fights they got into were worse than any others they had before.

Linnore and Jasper eventually split up, Kinsie going to the former, her mother. Now Kinsie lived in the poor part of the District, subjected to a rough life all her life.

Sometimes she _wished_ she could get Reaped. Dying with a sword to the head would be easier than starving to death. On subject of the Reapings, it was her first year. She would be turning 13 in precisely a week, but for now, she was stuck as 12 years old, working as a janitor in the power plant.

The Reapings were in a few hours, and she partially wished she could die in the arena.

* * *

 **Roy Lentz**

 _ **District Five Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a survivor (what?)  
I'm not gon' give up (what?)  
I'm not gon' stop (what?)  
I'm gon' work harder (what?)"**_

* * *

Roy was alive and breathing - it was all that mattered.

An illness had passed through his District one time, and it was a major illness that could kill you.

Roy didn't get the disease. That was good.

But there was always a downside to the good things - his mother and grandmother caught it.

He and his twin sister, Rahnya, were around three years old at that time but they still never forgot what their mother looked like through the evolution of the sickness. When she just caught it, she looked the same as ever - healthy, strong, beautiful. A few days later, she was starting to look a like frailer, but nothing all that noticeable. Fast-forwarding to a week, she was bedridden, looking as weak as anyone could be. And just a handful of days after that, Alyssa Lentz died.

Their grandmother, Dariah, was a different story. Yes, she had the illness, but it was not seeming to spread as fast as it did when it was in Roy's mother's body. Determined not to lose another relative, their father worked overtime and practically day and night until he finally had enough money to buy the cure. It took a huge dent out of their money, but it was worth it. Grandmother Dariah was cured.

But again, another downside - they were now deemed poor. They could no longer afford their middle-class house expenses and were downgraded to the low-class neighborhood.

For weeks, months, and years on end, they starved. Their father was barely home, but when he _did_ come him, he had three more mouths to feed.

Roy and Rahyna turned 11, and they couldn't wait until they were 12 so they could start taking tesserae.

But soon, one night, everything changed.

Roy was walking home one night, when he overheard a small group of people. Curious but also slightly nervous, he eavesdropped on their conversation.

With his excellent stealth skills, he learned that this group sold illegal arms like guns stolen from Peacekeepers. They were talking about hiring someone new so they could help deliver.

Roy knew it was a bad idea. He should've turned away and walked right back home.

But he knew he had no choice.

Roy approached them and admitted he had overheard their conversation. He asked if he could join their group. Impressed since they hadn't heard or seen him coming, they hired him. A few months later, Roy got Rahnya to start working for them as well. The duo were getter richer and richer each day.

But nothing worked the way anyone wanted it to work. The Peacekeepers found out about them a few months before the Reapings and raided their base. They took all of the group captive, except Roy and Rahnya, who had gone to deliver another gun to someone. The Peacekeepers had taken away all their jobs and said that if they caught him doing jobs like that again, they would kill them.

But for the Lentz siblings, luck was for once on their side. Their father had managed to finally land another job that paid better and he was making good money.

* * *

 **Kinsie Surge**

 _ **District 5 Female. 12 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad,**_

 _ **The craziest friend that you've ever had,**_

 _ **You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone,**_

 _ **Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong."**_

* * *

 _Here's to hoping,_ Kinsie thought sarcastically as her escort trotted across the stage in those high heels.

The male name was about to get picked. The escort, named Dawn Cyrus, swished her hand around the bowl. She plucked out a name, quick as an eel, from the bottom. "Roy Lentz! Our lucky male tribute is Roy Lentz!" Dawn called excitedly.

In the 15 year old section, a ripple of confusion was sent. No one was emerging, though.

"Roy Lentz?" She called again through the microphone.

Still no response.

A voice shouted from the middle of the section, "There he is!"

A light brown haired teen was slowly trying to slink away from the scene as everyone was distracted. _Smart boy._ Kinsie commented to herself.

He wasn't making any progress getting away from the Peacekeepers, though. They scooped him up quickly and dragged him next to Dawn.

Dawn ignored the fact he just tried to ditch his fate. "Your male tribute." She nodded in Roy's direction and walked forward to the girls bowl.

 _And…_

The green-haired escort got a name.

 _The female tribute…_

Dawn unfolded the slip to read it.

 _Is…_

"Kinsie Surge!"

 _Wow, it was me._ Kinsie was slightly shocked, even though she'd been wishing for it. It was rare what had happened - whoever heard of a twelve year old being Reaped? Well, Prim was, but that was only one time. The black haired pre-teen had taken out tesserae and had three slips, but that was three slips out of, what, thousands?

 _Well, I better not act shy._ She walked confidently out of the 12 year old section, walking at a quick pace with her hand on her hip. She made sure to turn to the camera with fire blazing in her eyes.

Once she reached the mic, she snatched it out of Dawn's grip. "My name is Kinsie Surge. I'll be the second twelve year old ever winning the Hunger Games."

Dawn noted, "I like your confidence, young one."

Kinsie made a rude face at her. "Don't call me young one, and I'm just stating facts."

Dawn wanted to correct her. _Not facts. Opinions._

* * *

 **Roy Lentz**

 _ **District Five Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a survivor (what?)  
I'm not gon' give up (what?)  
I'm not gon' stop (what?)  
I'm gon' work harder (what?)"**_

* * *

"I can't let my twin die." Rahyna was wailing. She was usually calm and nurturing, a shy, sweet soul. But it was different - everything was different.

Roy was used to change. Things had changed when his mother and grandmother caught the illness. Things had changed when his mother died. Things had changed when he and Rahyna joined the illegal arms group.

But this was a change he couldn't fix - he was one hundred percent guaranteed to die.

Tears pricked at Roy's eyes, threatening to spill. "It'll be okay." He muttered, looking down at the floor. Even he knew it was one white lie - he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince his family.

His grandma patted his back. "You've done me well, son." She said in that crackly voice of hers.

That done it - Roy started to cry.

Rahnya burst into tears, too. Their grandmother and father stood sadly.

"Time is up." The Peacekeeper called from outside.

"No, please! Don't go!" Roy called after them, but the Peacekeeper dragged the Lentz family out.

They had already handled the loss of their mother, Alyssa - how could they handle the loss of him?

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Kinsie Surge: "** _ **Mad Hatter**_ " **(sung by** _ **Melanie Martinez)**_

 **Roy Lentz: "** _ **Survivor"**_ **(sung by** _ **Destiny's Child)**_

* * *

 **Big news! We have all our tributes in! *applause***

 **Also, I have planned this story out entirely. I have each death already,** _ **and**_ **I have my Victor.**

 **Anyway, how did you like them, predictions, etc. Also, I'm adding a new question for each Reapings. Who do you think will ally with each other, out of the tributes we already saw?**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8 - District Six Reapings

**Chapter 8 - Posted ( 3/17/16)**

* * *

 **Zoe Mercedes**

 _ **District Six Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Hey baby there ain't no easy way out  
Hey I will stand my ground  
And I won't back down  
No, I won't back down."**_

* * *

Take a little, give none.

That motto applied to Zoe.

Orphaned at the young age of 7, she was forced into the orphanage. She hated it there. No one understood her, no one understood what she was going through.

Her father died in a fire set by accident in their house. And if _that_ wasn't enough trauma for her young self, her mother slipped into depression and committed suicide. Zoe was left to the orphanage's care, but no one would adopt her. They seemed to want people who weren't sarcastic and sharp like she was.

At 13, she was booted out partially because the orphanage was running out of room but also because she was one of the oldest. The staff were also tired of her attitude and her sass. She was kicked to the curb - literally.

Zoe was a mediocre survivor. She was tough and determined - that's how she managed to stay alive for three years on the streets. It wasn't easy, though. She had to pickpocket and steal. Zoe Mercedes was a thief.

Zoe currently roamed the market. She appeared to look casual and innocent, but there was more past that disguise. She discreetly took a few things from here and there - a few cents out of that man's pocket, another few from a woman. She didn't try to steal anything _big._ Then the people would notice it was missing. They wouldn't miss a few coins, now would they?

Passing the District Six Square, the 16 year old noticed that a few Capitolites and Peacekeepers were setting up a stage. _Must be the Reapings._ Zoe didn't keep good track of time, that was for sure.

She tapped on a teenage boy's shoulder, who might've been a few years or so younger than her. "Hey, you. How long until the Reapings?"

The boy responded, "Uh, two hours," before walking away. He wanted to get as far as possible from the mystery girl - besides, she had dirt and grime all over her clothes and face. A long scar ran from her cheek to her chin. Scars marked her arms, and her long black hair was a tangled mess. Yeah, she sure looked intimidating.

Zoe shrugged and resumed to taking some more money from another person.

Hey, what's a girl gotta do to get around here?

* * *

 **Louis Lindbergh**

 _ **District Six Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I believe I can fly,**_

 _ **I believe I can touch the sky,**_

 _ **I think about it every night and day,**_

 _ **Spread my wings and fly away."**_

* * *

"The hovercraft must be able to float." Louis muttered to himself. He placed his textbook gently on his desk. It was his dream to design, build, and fly a hovercraft. People tried to stop him from achieving his dream. They would say it wasn't possible.

That didn't affect him.

"Louis!" A voice called out. The 17 year old spun around - his father, Orville, was calling him.

Orville got along with his son fairly well. They didn't argue over pointless things. They weren't very close, so they didn't _have_ to fight. However, he never liked how his son wanted to become a pilot. Who needs to fly when they needed a stable job first? "Breakfast is ready. You mustn't be late." Orville was a very punctual man. He was also very stern at times.

"Coming!" Louis carefully placed his bookmark in the thick textbook and walked out of his "office" - in other words, the small room that he studied hovercrafts in. Pictures of the vehicle was thumbtacked to a bulletin board, and blueprints were scattered on the floor. The room was about as neat as Louis could get - in other words, he was _sloppy._

From the kitchen arose the aroma of meat being cooked. Of course, his mother Amelia was behind the grand scheme of the cooking. A year younger than Orville at 50 years old, she was unemployed, choosing to stay at home to take care of things at the house. She got along nicely with her son, and was very laid-back. She sometimes disapproved of her husband's strict habits. "Morning!" Amelia called to her son. "Ready for the Reapings today?"

Louis had always gotten increasingly more frantic each year. Now he was 17 years old - 7 slips in that Reaping bowl. 8, if you include that one tessera he took out. Being in a middle class family, he didn't need to take out a lot of tesserae, but his parents had always instructed him to take out _one_ , just in case. "I guess so." He replied, getting his serving from his mother.

His father said, "There's nothing to worry about, son - you won't get Reaped."

Louis nodded to his parents and tried to believe their words.

But why did still have that suspicious feeling that something bad was going to happen?

* * *

 **Zoe Mercedes**

 _ **District Six Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Hey baby there ain't no easy way out  
Hey I will stand my ground  
And I won't back down  
No, I won't back down."**_

* * *

Zoe sure hoped that boy was right - it wouldn't look good if she didn't show up to the Reapings.

But he _was_ right, and all was good.

Zoe stood in line to get her finger pricked, and it was moving slowly. Since she had nothing better to do, she looked around the Square.

On the stage, their escort was setting up. Their escort was a female, with light pink hair that reached up to her waist. Probably fake. Her eyes were magenta - again, probably fake.

Now turning behind her, Zoe noticed that the girl in the back of her was wearing a nice silk green dress, complete with stockings and beige brown boots that went up to her knees. Zoe looked at her _own_ outfit - she had never really paid attention to how stylish she dressed. She dressed depending on how comfortable the outfit was. At the moment she was wearing a black torn hoodie and and dark gray leggings, also torn. She had on black combat boots. Everything was stolen from a retail shop down the street from her alleyway that she slept in.

Zoe looked like she didn't belong anywhere. She was dressed super casual where everyone else was wearing a dress or a suit, in the boy's cases.

Finally, when she reached the front of the line, the operator peered at her oddly. _Is she out of her mind?_ He thought. The girl in front of him wasn't dressed fancy.

When Zoe saw the operator looking at her funny, she fumed angrily. "Just prick my finger and get on with it." She said in a mad tone.

He nervously pricked her finger quickly and sent her on her way to the correct section. Zoe got into the middle of the 16 year old girl section and waited for a little bit. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long. She had gotten there just in the nick of time.

"District 6." Their escort said in a bored monotone. Zoe had heard rumors that she wanted to be a stylist, but was forced to be an escort. "Let's get started with the Treaty of Treason."

Zoe concentrated as the Treaty was read, but she wasn't concentrating on the speech itself. She was concentrating on how many stutters the mayor made.

She had counted seven before it was time for the actual Reapings.

The pink-haired escort walked over to the female's bowl. "We'll start with the girls this year." She spoke into the microphone.

Zoe watched carefully as she picked a slip. The escort frowned and read the name to herself. Then she read it out loud. "Zoe Mercedes."

Zoe burst out laughing. "Girl, you did _not_ just call my name."

"I'm serious." The escort insisted. "Zoe Mercedes is the name." She sounded tired of the 16 year old already.

Zoe rolled her eyes and walked to the stage, flashing a rude sign to the cameras.

The escort ignored her. "Any Volunteers?" She asked, hopeful that someone would Volunteer so she wouldn't be stuck with this girl for a year. When there were none, she proceeded to pick the male tribute's name. "Louis Lindbergh."

The 17 year old section shuffled around, and moved backward until only a single male teen was left standing in the center. His face showed a look of shock and astonishment, along with a mixture of curiosity and fear. But, thrown in with everything else, was a bit of acceptance.

 _Weird._ Zoe remarked, staring at the boy with confusion. The said boy walked slowly to stage and mounted the steps. He didn't say anything into the microphone.

When she and Louis were being lead into the Justice Building by the escort, Zoe reached out and stole the ring from the pink-haired female's finger.

Just in case.

* * *

 **Louis Lindbergh**

 _ **District Six Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I believe I can fly,**_

 _ **I believe I can touch the sky,**_

 _ **I think about it every night and day,**_

 _ **Spread my wings and fly away."**_

* * *

Louis tried to interpret the meaning of _Reaped._ While he was scared to death, he was also curious what luxuries tributes would experience. Imagine...stylists and being on TV and everything! He might even be able to see a hovercraft up close!

His mother had the opposite of excitement and anticipation racing through _her_ brain. She was crying with tears streaking down her face. "Louis. You can do it." She sobbed.

"It'll be okay." Louis assured her. "I'll be fine. I'll come back - I promise." He held up a blue lanyard. "Look, this will be my token. It's my I.D from work."

Orville tried to calm his wife down. "Amelia, everything will be okay. Louis will come back."

Amelia could barely speak through her tears, and the three of them ended up sharing a group hug. Before long, the Peacekeepers shooed them away from the room. Their time was up.

Nobody else came, and Louis spent most of his time zoning out.

When his time in the Justice Building ran out, he and his snarky District Partner were walked to the Train Station.

Louis asked Zoe, "Are you nervous that you're going to die in the arena?"

Zoe shook her head no. "I just want to be remembered."

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Zoe Mercedes:** " _ **I Won't Back Down"**_ **(sung by** _ **Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers)**_

 **Louis Lindbergh:** " _ **I Believe I Can Fly"**_ **(sung by** _ **R. Kelly)**_

* * *

 **We're halfway through the Reapings! *throws confetti* I have put up a poll on my profile - go vote on it. Keep in mind you can only vote when you are on a computer or your device is on "Desktop/Tablet Mode" - it won't show up otherwise.**

 **The blog is up - it's called "aspellbrokenhg. weebly. com". Just delete the spaces when you type it into your search bar. I'd love it if people could check it out - maybe do a blog review? Thank you Astronaughty for making it!**

 **That part about Zoe wanting to be remembered wasn't actually planned - I just thought about writing that just when I was writing Louis interacting with her. I got that idea from "Ruins of Time" by WizardDemigodGladerGatekeeper, when Gigabyte just wanted to be remembered. By the way, shoutout to Wizard! You should totally check out all his stories - they are absolutely amazing.**

 **Also, I'm going to be closing my PM box for a long time, so if you need anything just say it in your review.**

 **Thanks so much, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	9. Chapter 9 - District Seven Reapings

**Chapter Nine - Posted on ( 3/18/16)**

* * *

 **Rowan Mattock**

 ** _District Seven Male_. 1** _ **6 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Wanted something I can't take,**_

 _ **I'll be stronger once again,  
Don't worry about me, trust me, **_

_**Please trust me now."**_

* * *

Rowan was used to his life being flawless. Excellent family and friends - check. Generally a great life - check.

But then something happened five days prior that turned his world upside down. That something changed everything. _Everything._

He could still remember detail of the time _it_ happened.

 _It started off like any regular day. He went down to the woods late in the evening to go to his shift. Rowan worked as a lumberjack and was quite experienced with an axe - he had a muscular physique to prove it. The Mattock teen did not sense something bad was going to happen._

 _He met up with his friends along the way - their names were Oliver and Kiefer Page. They were brothers and looked alike, having the same dark hair._

 _The trio walked together deep into the forest, unaware that a certain darkness was hanging around them like fog. They just kept walking farther, looking for the perfect tree to chop for paper._

 _Rowan finally spotted one. They started to swing their axes back and forth, back and forth…_

 _Kiefer was standing next to Rowan. His axe miscalculated and swung wildly by accident._

 _Rowan saw it coming out of the very corner of his eye and tried to dodge._

 _But the axe hit his forearm._

 _All he remembered before he blacked out were the Page brothers screaming and blood everywhere._

Rowan shivered, remembering the thought. He gingerly touched his right forearm with his left hand. There definitely was going to be a scar there.

His life was slowly getting back on track. He still had school to attend to, but he was dismissed from work until his arm completely healed. Rowan's mother, Ashley, and his father, Garrick, worried too much about him, but he didn't mind. Rowan did not want to grow up too fast.

"Hey, Rowan." A soft voice called from his doorway. Rowan looked up from the square window in his bedroom - he had been staring outside again. It was Ashley, coming to check on him once more.

"Hi, Mom." He replied. Before she could open her mouth and ask _the question,_ he beat her to it. "I'm fine."

Ashley visibly relaxed. "That's good." She then glanced at his closet and started to sort through the clothes. "Almost ready for the Reapings? They're in a few hours." She pointed to the clock hanging on his wall.

"Almost." Rowan responded. With his mother's help selecting the clothes, he threw on a button-down short-sleeved, blue shirt and jeans. He also wore dress shoes, via his father, and combed his hair.

When Rowan was done with prepping for the Reapings, his mother looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "My baby's growing up." She said in a sad voice. After all, Rowan was her only child.

Rowan turned away as well. If he saw his mother cry, he would probably cry, too.

He was emotional when it came to those things.

* * *

 _ **Celine Woodman**_

 _ **District Seven Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Possibly."**_

* * *

Some people would call Celine crazy. Others would call her normal.

She was both.

Celine Woodman wasn't an ordinary girl, that was for sure. She was as far as you could possibly get from ordinary.

Did she have imaginary friends? Yes, she did. Did she have something wrong with her? An ultra rapid cycling bipolar disorder. Was she the type of person who daydreamed when she wasn't supposed to? Yes.

At school, she was teased by peers. They tried to make her feel inferior or like a lone wolf. Celine was never truly _alone_ , though. At least not physically.

There was Annette.

Annette was 15 years old and was bordering on being a sociopath. She was snarky, sarcastic, and bold. She was an adrenaline junkie and liked to throw herself into adventures. She was very determined.

She was also imaginary.

Annette _seemed_ real to Celine, but in reality she was just a figure of imagination. Born out of loneliness, Annette would always give Celine advice on things. Celine's esteem was boosted whenever Annette was around - Celine hated to be by herself.

They faced the world together. Celine depended more and more on Annette everyday. Annette was supposedly very intelligent, but she liked the feeling of getting into battle more than anything else.

"Knock, knock." A voice called from Celine's bedroom. Startled, she gazed at the door before saying, "Come in!"

Her parents walked in. "Here's your breakfast." Her mother handed her a plate of hard boiled eggs.

"Thank you!" Celine replied, with a bubbly tone.

Her father sagged with relief - at least she wasn't in one of those stages when she'd start crying and screaming. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing good."

"We only want the best for you, Celine." Her mother patted her shoulder. She said those words every morning.

Celine nodded. Her parents left shortly after.

 _Hey._ A sound from inside her head made Celine almost leaped out of her chair with happiness.

"Annette?" She asked.

 _That's me._

"Can you give me some advice on what to wear for the Reapings?" Celine inquired. She patiently waited for her imaginary friend to respond.

Annette coached on what to wear. Celine's clothes from her wardrobe were scattered around the room, for when she disapproved of an outfit, she threw it behind her.

Finally, she was finished, and admired Annette's work in her vanity mirror.

 _See, I told you I have a good taste in fashion._

* * *

 _ **Rowan Mattock**_

 _ **District Seven Male. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Wanted something I can't take,**_

 _ **I'll be stronger once again,  
Don't worry about me, trust me,**_

 _ **Please trust me now."**_

* * *

Rowan's parents had a bad habit of looking on the bad side of things.

Garrick's worrying words to him were: "If you were Reaped, you can't use your right hand! But I don't think you'll be Reaped. You'll be fine, son." But Garrick sounded completely uncertain. Rowan's name was in there six times.

His mother told him: "You'll be okay. Just promise me you won't be Reaped." The 16 year old did not comment, but they both knew that he couldn't guarantee that.

Rowan thought back to those words when he stood in line to get his finger pricked. He wanted _so badly_ to believe them. But he just simply couldn't.

When it was his turn for blood to be drawn, Rowan winced a little when his finger was stabbed. Afterward, he walked on to the 16 year old section.

 _I won't get Reaped, I won't get Reaped, I won't get Reaped…_

Sometime when he was younger, Rowan's mother told him that if you say things over in over in your head they would come true.

He repeated mentally, _I won't get Reaped, I won't get Reaped, I won't get Reaped…_

Rowan did this all up until the long speech and the Treaty of Treason was over. Then he paid attention to the escort.

Their escort, Toria, had a wild streak in her. She was in her mid-twenties but her hair was dyed with all different kinds of colors. Silver, purple, pink, blue, and gold. She dressed with stripes on her shirt and polka dots on her shots. But she was overall very respectful and charitable, if not very peppy.

Toria skipped (yes, _skipped_ ) over to the female Reaping bowl. "Females first this time, does everyone agree?" When she was met by silence, she frowned but picked out a name, nevertheless. "The name is Celine Woodman. Is there a Celine Woodman here?"

A tall girl with dark brown hair in the 14 year old section's mouth dropped open. She quickly closed it but her eyes shown shock. The said girl rushed to the stage hurriedly, looking down at her brown brogue shoes.

Rowan studied her. Her build was slim and she had no muscles. But didn't _everyone_ in District 7 have muscles, because they worked with axes? Celine's hair was done in two braids, which hung over her pale pink blouse. She wore denim dungarees. And she also wasn't crying.

 _Hmm,_ Rowan thought. She didn't look familiar. Not from work, at least, and he didn't see her around his school before. Well, that might've been because she was two years younger than him.

It wasn't time to worry about that. Toria walked, with a spring in her step, to the male bowl.

His throat became tight, and he had a hard time breathing.

"Rowan Mattock!"

A cold fist closed over Rowan's heart. A sense of dread washed over him. _Curse it! Of all the possible years I'm reaped now, when I am not fighting fit! Fate is indeed ironic._ He thought.

He was very nervous but tried not to show it too much. Rowan pretended to be interested with the floor as he walked to the stage slowly.

Once arriving at the stage after what seemed like hours, Toria smiled an encouraging smile at him. "Celine Woodman and Rowan Mattock!"

Some things were uncertain. Whether or not his outfit would be a tree. Whether or not his stylist would be nice.

But one thing was certain.

Rowan was going to die.

* * *

 _ **Celine Woodman**_

 _ **District Seven Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Possibly."**_

* * *

Everything was going wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Celine didn't know _what_ to think. She was on the verge of tears. Her parents were in rage at the Capitol. Annette was excited to see death.

"And the Capitol thinks they have a right to Reap a 14 year old? Who do they think they are!" Her mother screamed at no one in particular. "How dare they Reap Celine! Especially in her condition!"

Celine was slightly offended by that, but didn't say anything.

"Mary, please calm down." Her father tried to help his wife become calmer but it didn't work.

"I can't calm down, Timone!" She snapped. "This is our only daughter we're talking about here! How are you being so relaxed? Do you even care!"

"Of course I care, but crying won't get us anywhere." He prodded gently.

Her mother just kept ranting. "They have the nerve to kill Celine! They're monsters! They're imbeciles! They're -"

A Peacekeeper came inside and dragged a screaming Mary from the room.

Celine stumbled back in shock. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to her mother.

Her father to turned to his daughter. "I better go. Promise me you'll be safe. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Dad."

They shared a last, fleeting hug before he walked out the door with a sad smile to Celine.

It was the saddest smile she had ever witnessed in her life.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Rowan Mattock: "** _ **Bury"**_ **(sang by** _ **Pay Money To My Pain)**_

 **Celine Woodman: "** _ **Crazy"**_ **(sang by** _ **Gnarls Barkley)**_

* * *

 **I'm back with District 7! I hope you enjoyed it. We are less than halfway done the Reapings - seven down, five to go. Judging from the blog, who are you excited to see next?**

 **Please, please, please check out** _ **RageHer0**_ ' **s stories. She is a super great author, and she is just amazing. She also submitted our District 12 Male, Lignite Parker.**

 **Anyway, read and review! Thanks everyone, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	10. Chapter 10 - District Eight Reapings

**Chapter Ten - Posted on (3/19/16)**

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

Azalea flipped the store sign to 'Closed', before walking out to go home. Her parents would catch up to her eventually.

As Azalea walked on the cobblestone streets of District 8, she observed everything. Then she noticed a group of popular kids from school walking together, looking like they were having a lot of fun. They were laughing together and joking together.

She could've been amongst them.

Azalea had always been part of the upper class, due to her father owning one of the most popular stores in all of the District. She had never found herself with an empty stomach. But then she was eligible for school, she had to rely on her social skills to make friends.

Surprise, surprise. Azalea didn't _have_ any social skills. She didn't interact with anyone when she was a young child, but at 10 years old she started to make fun of the popular kids in attempt to be friends with them. Of course, it didn't work. She made immediate enemies.

Azalea felt really bad for teasing them and vowed to try to be a better person. If she had just thought first, she could've approached them differently. She spent the rest of her school years in the corner of the room under her own little thundercloud.

No one noticed her - it was like Azalea was invisible. She liked it that way. As long as she didn't have to talk to anyone from school, she was fine.

It's been 6 years since the teasing, but the guilt was like a wound reopening when she watched the popular kids walk down the street together. Before they could see her, Azalea ducked her head down low and ran home. Her mother had always said she was a fast runner, but Azalea wasn't interested in any physical activity whatsoever.

Her home was big and spacious - she was in upper class, after all. Azalea plunked her work bag - which was a light green duffel - onto the floor near the front door and kicked off her shoes. She wanted to relax before the Reapings.

A worried person has to relax so they could have the energy to worry.

* * *

 **Dylan Tweed**

 _ **District Eight Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

 _ **I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,**_

 _ **Become so tired, so much more aware,**_

 _ **I'm becoming this, all I want to do,**_

 _ **Is be more like me and be less like you."**_

* * *

Dylan was tired of being jealous.

Whenever he looked at his family, and at his friends, he felt like he didn't belong amongst them. That he didn't fit into anything. They had it easy.

Because he was different.

 _They_ didn't have mood swings. _They_ were normal. _They_ were lucky. _They_ weren't messed-up, like him.

It took a lot of acting to smile and be friendly to cover it up, whenever he felt that way.

Dylan normally was happy. When he was happy, which was most of the time, he laughed, smiled, and joked around. But he was also angry and upset, half of the time. When he was, he cried, screamed, and threw tantrums. He was merciless.

He couldn't control when his emotions changed.

Part of the reason he didn't fit in was that he was adopted.

He had been found in a box outside the house of the Tweed family. The family took him in and raised him as their son because they were childless. When he was nine, his parents told him that he was adopted and that sort of messed up his mind. He started thinking that his parents didn't really love and had taken him in only due to pity which resulted in his lack of confidence. Dylan was not the best at school and neither the worst but that too slowly added up to his depressing thoughts.

Dylan never knew his biological parents. All he could remember was dark brown eyes from his mother and dark brown hair from their father. Why would his parents not want an optimistic, bubbly child like him? No one ever would know.

Dylan sighed and drummed his fingers on his desk. _I wish I belonged._

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

A gray storm cloud was gathering over District 8. Just Azalea's luck. If it rained, it would be the most depressing Reaping she ever witnessed, in all her 4 years present. Depressing, like the mood she always felt.

Azalea stared wordlessly at the Square. It was modified to have a stage, and there were sections marked off for every age and gender. The cursed Reaping bowls were sitting on small tables.

Azalea's name was only in there 4 times - she didn't need to take any tesserae. She knew a lot of people from school who had to take out multiple. She felt bad for them.

After getting her finger pricked, she was sent to her section, the 16 year old female section. She stood nervously, waiting for the Reapings to begin. Azalea worried, and fidgeted with her black skater skirt. She smoothed her white blouse, and stared at her brown lace-up boots. Whenever she got anxious, she had habits of fixing her appearance. Her motto was: "If something _can_ go wrong, it _will_ go wrong." She was accustomed to that saying.

And again, just her luck - she was standing next to the most popular girl her age. That girl was one of the people she made fun of. Azalea scooted a little farther away, but the other girl didn't seem to notice.

"Welcome one, welcome all!" A welcoming, bubbly voice gushed from the stage, causing Azalea to look up. It was their escort, Trill Treasure. Trill was on the old side, maybe mid-50's, but she could move around well and she looked good for her age. Of course, that might've been the plastic surgery, but still. "My name is Trill Treasure, your escort. I'm so glad to be back in District 8 - it's so beautiful here!"

Everyone in the District exchanged glances. They knew Trill was lying. There was nothing much to see in their District - only if you'd count smog all over the place and run-down factories. That was it.

Trill continued as if she didn't see anything. "The Treaty of Treason will be read now. Please relax and enjoy!"

 _Enjoy?_ Azalea thought sarcastically. _Enjoy something before someone is about to die? I don't think so._

The mayor read the Treaty in a monotone, wanting to get it over with. When he was finished, the District took in a deep breath in unision. It was time.

Trill was oblivious to the apprehensive of the crowd as she walked to the boy's bowl first. She flashed a white smile to her audience as she searched for the perfect name. Her hand hovered over a slip near the top - no. It wouldn't do. She moved some papers over, and finally picked a name from the bottom of the pile. The _very_ bottom of the pile. Trill waved it in the air before heading back to the microphone. She used her aqua-manicured hands to open the folded piece of paper.

All the boys started to fidget.

"And our male tribute is: Dylan Tweed!"

At first, nothing happened. Then shock must've hit the future tribute, and a scream sounded from the 13 year old section. "No! No! No!"

Peacekeepers were able to identify the boy and pulled him up to the stage. Dylan's eyes caught Azalea's green orbs. Azalea stared back at him in sympathy as he looked at her desperately. _Help me,_ he seemed to say.

Azalea sighed heavily with regret and turned away. She couldn't bear to look at the little boy anymore.

Trill gave Dylan a once over and looked at him in disappointment. He wasn't very impressive, and he would not stand a chance against the Careers at all. Everything from the top of his brown-haired head to his blue sneakers showed that he was depressed.

"Moving on." Said the escort. "The ladies are next." She walked over to the second bowl and picked out a name quickly this time, from on top.

Azalea's heart crawled into her throat. _If something can go wrong, it will go wrong._

"The female tribute is: Azalea Sequins!"

Azalea's world turned to black and white. She couldn't see anything in color anymore. She couldn't hear anything - all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. That, and the words repeating in her head.

 _If something can go wrong, it will go wrong._

* * *

 **Dylan Tweed**

 _ **District Eight Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

 _ **I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,**_

 _ **Become so tired, so much more aware,**_

 _ **I'm becoming this, all I want to do,**_

 _ **Is be more like me and be less like you."**_

* * *

Tears. Tears were his world now.

Tears tracked down Dylan's face and made his face blotchy. They made his face red.

He didn't care.

Dylan was Reaped. He desperately needed some way to go back in time and to fix what had happened. _I'm just a little boy. I'm not ready to die._

He had a whole life ahead of him. Dylan wanted to graduate, get a steady job that paid well, and get married. He wanted to have kids, so he could love them like his own biological parents never did. He wanted to watch them grow up. Dylan wanted to die of old age, not of an axe to the neck.

Dylan had clearly thought too much ahead.

The door creaked open. His adopted parents, Amari and Zander, rushed into the room and immediately wrapped him up in a hug.

The young 13 year old sobbed, soaking their shirts. "I love you."

Amari pulled away, as did Zander. "We love you too, Dylan." Zander replied to the younger male softly.

His adopted mother told him, "Whatever happens, we're proud of you. You are our pride and joy." Amari tried to keep her lower lip from quivering. Just watching Dylan cry made her feel like crying, too.

"It was a miracle when we found you on our doorstep. No one could ever love you as much as we do." Zander continued quietly. "I hope I was a good father to you."

Dylan nodded - Zander may look strict and stern on the outside, but on the inside, he was a fun-loving and caring man. Same with Amari - she was a lovely woman.

They cried together. The trio didn't want to let go as Zander and Amari were dragged from the room by Peacekeepers. Dylan sat back down on the couch and cried some more.

His next visitors were his best friends, Raul and Lara.

Raul was his all-time best friend. Raul was mostly quiet, but he was a deep thinker. He was also a good listener and was always there if you needed a shoulder to cry on. He knew Dylan ever since they were 5 years of age.

Lara was a bubbly, carefree, naive girl. She and Dylan often fought about random, small things but they were always there for each other. Lara was the younger sister (at 12 years old) Dylan never had.

They exchanged heartfelt, emotional goodbyes. But even they were gone, too.

Dylan's new life could be described in two words. _Tears_ and _goodbye._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Azalea Sequins: "** _ **Happy" (**_ **sung by** _ **Pharrell Williams)**_

 **Dylan Tweed: "** _ **Numb"**_ **(sung by** _ **Linkin Park)**_

* * *

 **Hi again! To clarify, Azalea's song is "Happy" because she is the opposite of happy.**

 **Also, I know I have** _ **a lot**_ **of mood swing tributes.** _ **A lot.**_ **The last one is coming up in District Twelve.**

 **We're really almost done the Reapings! I am so excited to get onto the Pre-Reapings.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	11. Chapter 11 - District Nine Reapings

**Chapter Eleven - Posted on ( 3/21/16)**

* * *

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

 _ **District Nine Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm just a believer that things will get better,**_

 _ **Some can take it,**_

 _ **Or leave it,**_

 _ **But I don't wanna let it go."**_

* * *

Being good at things had it's benefits - _and_ its doubts.

Rosie was amazing at healing and apothecary-like subjects. She could whip up a remedy to cure most things in a few minutes. Rosie was a hard worker and was dedicated. She had found something she was good at, and it wasn't working in the grain fields.

 _But._ There was always a _but._

Rosie barely saw her father. He had to work hard in the grain fields for the five mouths, not including his, he had to feed when he came home.

Of course, her mother Basil did work. She was a gracious woman who would do anything to support her family, but unfortunately, her job didn't pay well. She was a planter who worked the night time shift. People say Rosie inherited Basil's kindness. Rosie was caring, respectful, and obedient just like her mother.

And then there were the triplets.

You could call them _demons._

Dan, Sage, and Wheaton. Little monsters. They were selfish and devoured all the food for themselves - the food meant for the whole family. Rosie always tries to be patient with them but lately it was getting harder and harder. She had to always remind herself to keep her head held high and _do not get mad._

Rosie sat at her twin bed. It had a hole in the bedsheet. Her family couldn't afford to buy a new one at the moment. Rosie was trying to support the family as well but she wasn't helping, because they also had to pay for the tuition for her herbal school. She walked out of her bedroom, the one she had to share with her mother, and walked to the kitchen. Her father shared a room with the triplets, on the other hand. Rosie felt bad for him. They had made a line down the middle of the room to separate their "territory" from his - and they told him not to cross it.

Once Rosie reached the kitchen, she could smell hard-boiled eggs. Her family must've finally afforded to get them today. Rosie was even able to get up before her brothers were up, so she could have a lot of them today. Her brothers almost _always_ ate all of them.

Rosie smiled to herself. "Things are looking up. What a great start to the day."

* * *

 **Casimir Moretti**

 _ **District Nine Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Accustomed to the cataclysmic madness,**_

 _ **My daily life I mistake for peace,**_

 _ **As this rambling coaster jolts me back and forth,**_

 _ **What is it that I mustn't lose sight of?"**_

* * *

Casimir's stomach grumbled harshly. _Not again._ He tried to bit down his hunger and attempted to think about other things. His family, the Reapings, the Games, the rainy weather…

It wasn't working - it never did. Casimir was accustomed to starving and pain. He was used to always having an empty stomach, and he never really expected to get anything more. Sometimes he'd go for days without food, and those hunger pangs were hard to bear. But he normally at least got a little sliver of stale bread or anything from a market by their house each day.

Casimir looked on the bright side most of the time. He tried to not doubt anything or anyone. Optimistic as he was, Casmir was still a growing boy who needed to eat more and more each day. He worked in the grain fields for a minimum pay and he didn't get much money. He could never afford a lot of edible meals.

Speaking of working, Tessa, Balthazar, and Euca (short for Eucalyptus) had to work as well. They were all 17, 15, and 11 respectively.

Tessa was his older sister. She was very loyal to her family and often thought about them before herself. She is like a mother figure to them and she loves them more than anything else in the world. Sure, Tessa was a little uptight, even when Casimir was young. She had been taking out tesserae for the whole family since she was 12 and eligible for being Reaped. Even when Balthazar and Casimir could take out tesserae, she refused for them to risk their lives and continued to take out the tesserae for the whole family.

Balthazar was Casimir's twin brother. Balthazar liked to joke around, and he was very friendly. He inherited these traits from their father, Michael, who was like Balthazar. He and Casimir were close, but they weren't joined at the hip like most twins are.

Euca, his 11 year old brother, was lucky, in a way. He didn't have to worry about being Reaped for another year, and he didn't have to work as hard as his other three siblings did.

All in all, Casimir had a great family, but family couldn't help the fact that the Moretti's was poor. _At least we're all together...right?_

* * *

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

 _ **District Nine Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm just a believer that things will get better,**_

 _ **Some can take it,**_

 _ **Or leave it,**_

 _ **But I don't wanna let it go."**_

* * *

The sun was brightly shining high overhead. Rosie thought that it was wrong for it to be so sunny, and so happy-looking, when two people would be Reaped for the Games today. _Think good thoughts._

Rosie was just a tad bit late. She only had time to have a brief look in the mirror before she left her house - she was wearing a long-sleeved white lace shirt paired with a yellow miniskirt. Her feet were adorned with white sandals, and Rosie had a lemon-colored bow in her chocolate brown colored hair. Her hair was french-braided, via her mother.

She was the last person in line to get her finger pricked. When it was, she was approved and sent to her correct section. Rosie was barely there for five minutes when the District 9 escort launched into script.

"District 9, I am absolutely delighted to be back here." Their escort said, her voice sounding happy. However, when Rosie looked into the escort's face, it was scowling and looking at the District in distaste. Rosie knew the story behind _this_ woman. She was the escort for District 9 for quite a while. The previous year, the year of the 75th Hunger Games, she was promoted to District 1. But this year, she was yet again downgraded to District 9. And you could ask anyone - the escort was most definitely _not_ happy with that.

She said a few more words, and the mayor gave out a short speech, but Rosie tried not to throw up the whole time. She had a bad feeling about this year. She just knew it in her gut.

She tuned back in just in time to hear the Capitol woman say in a fake-excited tone, "Ladies are first!"

Every female in the District observed the escort's movements carefully as the older woman picked out a single piece of paper from the bowl. She "skipped excitedly" to the microphone and opened the slip slowly, for suspense. The escort took a deep breath, and read it. "The name is Rosemary Fields. Please come to the stage!"

Rosie's jaw dropped open, and she couldn't make it close. _Me?_ Rosie didn't want to look weak for the cameras, so she walked out quickly to the stage and gave a sweet smile. She hoped the cameras wouldn't catch the tears forming in her eyes.

Once she arrived at the stage, standing next to the Capitol escort, the tear slipped down her face. Rosie tried to cover it up by pretending to be interested in her shoes.

The escort ignored her. "And for the male tribute…"

She fished around in the male Reaping bowl and got a single slip, after poking around in the bottom. The Capitol woman opened it right then and there. Her eyebrows knit together as she tried to read how it was pronounced, and when she finally figured it out, she sauntered back to the microphone. "Casimir Moretti. Please come to the stage, if you will."

A loud gasp sounded from the 15 year old section. Then a golden blonde-haired boy speed-walked to the stage, not looking at the camera but staring straight ahead. Once he stood next to Rosie, she could tell he was taking deep breaths and remains of some tears were on his face.

" _No, Casimir!"_ A voice screamed. Rosie looked in that direction. A long brown-haired girl coming out of the 17 year old section starting trying to make her way to the stage. Peacekeepers caught her easily, but the girl kept struggling. Casimir clenched his fists - he was nervous for that girl. Looking at the both of them closely, they looked a bit similar. They looked like brothers and sisters.

" _It should have been me there, too!"_ The girl shouted, pushing to get to her brother. She was a feisty one, that was for sure.

Rosie wanted to tell her, _Please, don't struggle! You'll get yourself killed!_

But it was too late. Everything happened in slow motion after that. One of the Peacekeepers pulled out his gun.

And shot the girl in the head.

* * *

 **Casimir Moretti**

 _ **District Nine Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Accustomed to the cataclysmic madness,**_

 _ **My daily life I mistake for peace,**_

 _ **As this rambling coaster jolts me back and forth,**_

 _ **What is it that I mustn't lose sight of?"**_

* * *

Casimir gulped in air. He was having trouble breathing.

 _Tessa. Tessa. Tessa…_

His caring, kind sister. His _only_ sister. The one who gave up so much for him. She was gone. She was _dead…_

His family hadn't come in yet - but they'd surely come...right?

The door to his assigned room opened wildly, and Casimir was not expecting this person to come in. Well, he _was_ expecting her to come in, but he wasn't expecting her to be the first visitor.

She had shoulder-length raven black hair, which was choppy due to being cut with a knife. Her skin was a lightly tanned color, and she had dark brown eyes, shaped like almonds. Her height was 5'7". Many mistaken her and Casimir for dating, but they weren't.

It was Casimir's best friend, Camellia Roxen.

Camellia's eyes were rimmed red, and she rushed to embrace her friend.

For a while, they just held each other, before it turned a bit awkward. They released each other.

Casimir broke the silence. "How are you doing?"

Camellia tried to look stern by rolling her eyes but she couldn't keep the playful smile off her face. "You are the most awkward person ever."

They started laughing. It seemed a bit odd for them to be laughing before Casimir was sent to his death, but it lighten the mood a little. The fog of sadness lifted a tiny bit.

After they calmed down, Camellia turned serious. "You'll be okay."

Casimir smiled sadly. "I won't, but I promise I'll try to get as far as I can."

His black-haired friend slapped him across the face.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"You're coming back! Stop thinking so negative. You'll do fine." Camellia scolded him, sounding much like his mother. She hated for her friends to be down.

"Thanks." They had just enough time for another short hug before she was dragged out of his life forever. Or rather, dragged out of the _room._

Boy. Tessa was already ripped from his life. Now Camellia?

He waited a few more minutes, pacing. He had expected his family to come right after Camellia left, but still no sign of them. Were they okay? He choked on his tears as he thought a horrible thought: _Were they shot right after Tessa was shot?_

He sat down on the couch and stared at the door. And waited…

A few minutes after that, a knock on his door signaled someone was there. It opened a second later. Nope, it wasn't his whole family, but rather a _member_ of the family. His twin brother, Balthazar.

Balthazar's usually cheerful face was replaced with a grim, serious one. Like life forced him to grow up too fast. It wasn't fair - nothing was fair anymore. "Are you going to be okay?" He asked quietly.

Casimir wasn't used to his twin being upset, or even quiet. Balthazar was never quiet. Casimir didn't want to give his family false hope, but he didn't want to worry them further. "I'll be fine. Hey, where's everyone else?"

Balthazar shook his head. "The-they couldn't come. They didn't want to see you...it would hurt too much."

Every word was like a pang in his heart. Casimir knew what they meant by not coming, but still, it was painful to hear that.

Balthazar gave Casimir a quick hug before slipping out.

Tessa, Camellia, and now his family. They had all slipped between his fingers and left him behind forever.

There was no one left for him to turn to anymore - his life balanced on the edge of a knife.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields: "** _ **Believer**_ " **(sung by** _ **American Authors)**_

 **Casimir Moretti: "** _ **Sugar Song and Bitter Step"**_ **(sung by** _ **Mafumafu)**_

* * *

 **And we have safely arrived in District 9. How did you like Rosie? How did you like Casimir? You know the drill.**

 **Also, who would you like to see on the train rides?**

 **Thanks so much for all your support. 105 reviews already? You guys are the best readers ever! And in last chapter, I meant "Pre-Games", not "Pre-Reapings". Thanks for pointing that out, flowersnowgirl. Oops...**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	12. Chapter 12 - District Ten Reapings

**Chapter Twelve - Posted on (3/22/16)**

* * *

 **Taurus Whittaker**

 _ **District Ten Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Baby you understand me now,**_

 _ **If sometimes you see I'm mad,**_

 _ **Don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel?**_

 _ **When everything goes wrong you see some bad."**_

* * *

Cheryl Whittaker looked nervously up from the good paperback she was reading when she heard screaming coming from her nephew Taurus' room. She got up quickly and put a bookmark in her book before heading down the hall from the kitchen to inspect what was going on with Taurus.

She was used to these kinds of things happening with him, but she could never be too careful. There was one episode when he ran away from home and tried to _kill_ himself…

She was sure he didn't do it intentionally. After all, it wasn't his fault he had a bipolar disorder.

Cheryl knocked on his bedroom door and opened it without him even telling her to "Come in!" Cheryl saw Taurus huddled in the corner of his bedroom, hands over his ears, and screaming. He was rocking back and forth.

She cursed under her breath. She normally had a medication for him to take, but he had ran out of it just yesterday. Cheryl approached Taurus carefully, and sat next to him. "It's okay, bud, it's okay." She said softly. "We're all okay…"

Soon, Taurus' weird, jerky movements came to a stop, and he calmed down. He took in deep breath, and the tracks of tears were still visible on his face.

Cheryl smiled to herself and left. _Mission accomplished._

But there was one thought still in the 42 year old woman's head. _All that work, and I'm not even his mother - I'm just his aunt._

Meanwhile, in Taurus' room, he sat on the bed, just thinking. He always had a moment of silence just to think after one of his episodes. As usual, his heart was telling him it wasn't his fault for what happened to him constantly. His thoughts were telling him it _was_ his fault.

He had to believe his heart. He _did_ have a bipolar disorder, and he couldn't control when his emotions changed.

But sometimes Taurus believed his thoughts. He wasn't born with the disease, but it was rather born out of the depression of his mother dying.

He was only 8 when his mother died, but he still remembered everything about her. Her mocha, bronze skin gleaming in the sunlight. Her long, dark hair streaming out behind her. Her dark eyes smiling and her full lips smiling as well. She was a tall woman, 5'9". Taurus had taken after her height.

It was his father he didn't remember - he wasn't sure he even met him. He _never_ knew his father. Whenever he asked his mother about him before, she would just shake her head glumly and take his head in her hands. _Taurus,_ she'd say, _sometimes the past is better left in the past._

Taurus' mother was not a crazy woman who believed in philosophy. She was kind and caring, always there for you. She was a great mother. She just happened to like words of wisdom.

He didn't know that she died until some neighbor told him. She was at work. She worked a day shift and worked as a stablehand. There was some stampede with the cows, and she died, trampled.

Sometimes Taurus had nightmares about how she died. Her blood squirting out. Her useless screams…

Ever since then, he had to live with his aunt Cheryl. She was a great woman. He didn't mind living with her and her daughters. Her daughters were Varn, 6 years old, Tawny, 11 years old, and Sabby, 13 years old. Cheryl could relate to Taurus about losing relatives - her own husband had died when a horse he was riding bucked and he was thrown off the saddle. After he was thrown off, he hit the hard ground and broke every bone in his body. He died. That meant that Sabbie, Tawny, and Varn were fatherless.

He did not mind the three girls. They looked up to him as an older brother, even though they were cousins.

Taurus sometimes made-pretend that he was part of their family. Cheryl came from his mother's side, being his mother's sister, so they looked alike. But he knew that he'd never belong.

Besides, his last name was still _Whittaker_ , his old last name.

Cheryl, Tawny, Varn, and Sabby's last name was _Corinth._

* * *

 **Casey Taurus**

 _ **District Ten Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **This tug of war can't go on anymore,**_

 _ **Nobody wins from this misery,  
Free, well oh can't you see,  
I wanna be, I want you to be, free."**_

* * *

"Casey!" A middle-aged man's voice called out from outside the stables.

Casey muttered under her breath before turning around to face the approaching man. She was normally a cheerful, jolly 18 year old, but she hated her father above anything else.

Coming close in second on her hate list was her mother.

"What do you want?" Casey spat. She, all the while, continued feeding the cows that were in her father's stables. She loved cows. She couldn't bear for them to be slaughtered and turned into meat - who could do that to them? Also, some people actually took their skin and made it into clothing. _Disgusting._

Her father, Austin, boomed angrily across the stables. "Were you sneaking out again? Tell me the truth!"

Casey wanted to correct him. _I never sneak out. I just go to the slaughterhouse. That's all._ But she didn't want to get in trouble, so she looked at the floor and grumbled, "Yes."

"Why do you even bother?! We raise these animals to die." He gestured at all of the cows. "They are going to die and be sold as food so I can get more money. Understand?"

Austin stormed out, fuming. Meanwhile, Casey sank to the ground, sobbing. Why was her father always so mean to her? Why was her mother so mean to her, too? Why wasn't like fair?

She was sure they would've had a close bond if she didn't free cows from the slaughterhouse.

Casey knew it was risky. She knew she could die. But she just couldn't let the animals die. They didn't do anything! Every night she'd go out to the slaughterhouse, take some animals from their holding pen, and let them loose in the wild. There was nothing wrong with doing the good thing.

Sometimes, just after she'd free the first round of cows, Casey would stare longingly at the wilderness beyond the District. She could run away, too, with the cows if she'd wanted to. But something always held her back.

The problem was that her father was always obsessed with money and himself. Money this, money that. Me, me, me. And her mother, Abby Taurus, always went along with what Austin said.

The only person she could turn to was her best friend, Natalie. At the same age as Casey, Natalie Willows also believed in freeing animals. She would help Casey sometimes, but not as often as the other girl. They _looked_ like opposites: Casey was from an Asian descent, with fair skin and dark brown hair. Natalie was from a different descent, with long strawberry blonde hair and gray eyes. But they were both still alike in personality and beliefs of freeing animals.

Wiping her tears away, Casey stood up. She had to be strong.

* * *

 **Taurus Whittaker**

 _ **District Ten Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Baby you understand me now,**_

 _ **If sometimes you see I'm mad,**_

 _ **Don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel?**_

 _ **When everything goes wrong you see some bad."**_

* * *

Taurus took a deep breath in and out. He might hyperventilate right then and there. His aunt had said to him earlier, "Trust me, Taurus, you won't get Reaped." But it was hard to believe, and the fact that he took out lots of tesserae to support himself along with his family.

He was standing in line to get his finger pricked, and when it was his turn up, the sting was gone before he knew it. He headed right to the 17 year old male section, which was indicated by a number. There was a roped-off section for people who were too young _or_ too old to be Reaped. He could see Cheryl there, along with Tawny and Varn. Sabby was in the 13 year old section.

Next year was going to be Taurus' last, and he was glad. After that, he could get a stable job and support his family even more. He could help them get a bigger house, and help them get lots of money…

Whoa, whoa. Back up. Taurus was getting ahead of himself.

As he waited, he thought, _Curse Aunt Cheryl. She always is_ too _early._

He had to wait for a really long while. The Reaping Square was still filling up by the time he'd been there for 30 minutes.

Finally, _finally,_ it was time for the Reapings.

 _Let's get this over with,_ he thought, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Taurus would not get Reaped…

He tuned out his escort's chatter. She kept talking about random things and complementing the mayor's outfit. Not to be mean, but Taurus personally thought the mayor's outfit was the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

Soon, it was time.

The escort, wearing high heels with spikes, smiled and walked across to the boy's Reaping bowl. "We'll do boys first." She said. Then she dug in and looked for the perfect slip. She got one swiftly off the very top, and opened it carefully. Then she walked forward to the microphone and said the name rapidly. "Taurus Whittaker!"

At first, Taurus wasn't sure if it was his name. _Taurus Whittaker? That sounds kind of familiar._ But then it processed in his mind; it was _his_ name.

His eyes widened and Taurus had another one of his episodes; screaming and tears included. He immediately regretted it, but he knew it was being broadcasted across all of Panem. He would look like a baby.

Taurus looked around, and, out of options, tried to run. He was pretty fast, but not fast enough for the Peacekeepers. He was caught and dragged to the stage.

"Any Volunteers?" The escort asked. She knew she probably wasn't going to get any. _So I'm stuck with this Taurus Whittaker._ She thought in her head, but kept the false smile on her face shining. Boy, was _she_ a good actor. She couldn't believe she actually fooled all of Panem with her "giggly, bubbly, clueless" escort act.

Then she moved onto the girls and did the same actions. When she moved to the microphone, she declared, "Casey Taurus!"

Taurus blankly stared at the 18 year old section, where an Asian, black haired girl was emerging. She was crying, but attempted not to show it too much. Her eyes looked sunken. She looked defeated.

 _Taurus...that's my first name, and this girl's last name._ He noted as she walked up the steps. Casey stood next to him and didn't say a word.

"Your tributes, Taurus Whittaker and Casey Taurus!"

Casey shook hands with Taurus. Then, without turning back, she followed the escort into the Justice Building.

* * *

 **Casey Taurus**

 _ **District Ten Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **This tug of war can't go on anymore,**_

 _ **Nobody wins from this misery,  
Free, well oh can't you see,  
I wanna be, I want you to be, free."**_

* * *

Casey was in _major_ trouble.

Not only was she going into the Games, but now no one except her best friend was going to free the cows.

She should've turned and ran into the wilderness when she had the chance.

Casey's first visitor was Natalie. Natalie was crying. "Casey, no!" She wailed.

They held each other tight for a few moments, before releasing each other and talking about small things.

Natalie brought up the cow-freeing subject when her time was almost up.

"I'll try to free as many cows as I can." She said. "I promise."

Casey smiled - she could always count on Natalie. "Thanks. You're the best."

Her blonde friend was soon pulled out of the room by a Peacekeeper. Casey was only expecting her parents to come now, not really anyone else.

Casey waited and waited. The vintage clock by the door was ticking. _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…_

After what only seemed like maybe two minutes, the same Peacekeeper who was assigned to her room poked her head in and told her that it was time to go to the train station.

The 18 year old stood up from the velvet couch, a little confused. "But I thought my mother and father would come to visit me." Casey answered, her voice cracking on the last words. _I thought they cared about me._

"I'm sure they had their reasons for not coming. But time's up, kid. Let's not hold up everyone."

Casey followed her Peacekeeper out, stunned.

Her parents hadn't came at all.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Taurus Whittaker: "** _ **Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood**_ " **(sung by** _ **Nina Simone)**_

 **Casey Taurus: "** _ **Free"**_ **(sung by** _ **Haley Reinhart)**_

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews -**

 **Emrys Holmes:** When I looked back at the form for his info, I saw that Casimir's brother's name _was_ Basil, but I decided to change it because Rosemary's mother's name was Basil as well. I hope you're okay with it.

 **All:** Thanks again for all your positive reviews! I love all you guys! I literally only had posted this story 16 days ago (I think…), a little over two weeks ago, but I already have 110 reviews. How amazing is that?!

* * *

 **Hi again! How did you like Casey and Taurus? I know "Taurus" is Taurus' first name and Casey's last name, but I hope you don't mind that.**

 **Also, a little disclaimer I forgot to do: I don't own the Hunger Games, everything belongs to Suzanne Collins. I only own some escorts I made up, and Lynx and Azuria. That's pretty much it.**

 **I closed the poll for voting, so you can go check out the results if you want. I'm going to post a new poll soon, most likely after the next chapter (Chapter 13) is posted, so keep an eye out for that, too.**

 **Want some good open SYOTs? Well, you should submit to "HogwartsDreamer113"'s story. It's called "The Last Lullabies".**

 **Also, do you want me to use Plutarch or an OC for the Gamemaker? I wouldn't really know how to portray Plutarch, but again, it's really up to you guys!**


	13. Chapter 13 - District Eleven Reapings

**Chapter Thirteen - Posted ( 3/23/16)**

* * *

 **Isobel Wild**

 _ **District Eleven Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **And now, I don't wanna take you if we fall down, don't get upset,**_

 _ **And now, is just the beginning,**_

 _ **And we'll figure it out somehow,**_

 _ **Right now, masquerade."**_

* * *

"Come on, try again!" Seeder hollered from the sidelines to Isobel. Isobel hurled the knife again, and this time it hit the center of their target; in other words, the tree in their backyard. Seeder smiled in approval. "You have done me well."

Isobel smiled brightly back to her grandmother.

Seeder was, yes, Isobel's grandmother. Seeder's daughter was Isobel's mother, Ciara. And Isobel was _Ciara's_ daughter, born after Ciara married Thorne Wild. She was the eldest of two, having a younger sister named Quill. Quill was 13 years old - there was a 3 year age gap between Isobel and her sister, but that didn't change anything. They were still close as ever.

Isobel told Seeder she would take a short break. When Seeder obliged, she promptly hurried out to the front of the lawn. Isobel loved fresh air and the feeling of being outdoors. Being indoors was just...no. She plopped right down on the kelly green grass of the Victor's Village and just sat.

She thought about everything that happened already on that day. Waking up early at Seeder's command. Practicing throwing knives…

Isobel wasn't planning on Volunteering for the Games or anything outrageous like that. Seeder just made her practice, and she quoted, " _Just in case."_ Seeder was convinced the Reapings were rigged, but Isobel was sure they were not. If they wanted to Reap her, they would've done it already, perhaps even when she was 12 or 13 years old and a young child.

She wasn't planning on doing anything related to the Games. She just wanted to live a happy life with her family and friends.

A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "What are you doing?"

Isobel looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. "What do you _think_ I'm doing?" She scoffed, but in a friendly, playful way.

Standing there, grinning, was her best friend, Matthias Montoya. Matthias, or "Matt" for short. He was basically the brother she never had. They were 2 years apart, Matt being older, but they still got along great. He was also Chaff Mitchell's nephew, and they met at the Victor's Village. Matt and Isobel's houses were right next to each other, which was perfect so they could see each other everyday. He had bronze skin like hers, and dark hair. Isobel got butterflies in her stomach when he smiled. Well, she wasn't exactly sure how she felt about him yet. But she felt happy when around him.

"Ready for the Reapings?" Matt changed the subject.

Isobel knew he was excited. It was his last year attending the event, and he was _positive_ he wouldn't be Reaped. She didn't know how he could be so sure, but Matt's positive thinking always worked. He had a theory: You would believe whatever you wanted to do mentally. For example: I _won't_ get Reaped. You would say it over and over in your head until it's drilled into your mind. Before you knew it, before your very eyes, the positive thinking would start working like magic. Matt liked to say that it was the reason he wasn't Reaped all those years. Isobel had once told him that it was probably because he didn't take out any tesserae, but he liked his way better.

"Bring it on." Isobel answered loftily. She had done some positive thinking of her own, too.

Matt laughed and sat next to her on the grass.

For a while, it was just like that. Them watching the sun rise higher and higher into the sky. Isobel felt a sense of trust and friendship wash over her those moments. It was her and Matt against the world.

Suddenly, Seeder's voice was calling her back to earth. "We're going to eat breakfast now, Isobel! If you don't hurry up you're going to miss it!"

The 16 year old female jumped up frantically. "I totally forgot. I'm coming now!"

Matt laughed again and the butterflies raced around in her stomach once more.

* * *

 **Quince Lazarre**

 _ **District Eleven Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **As a child you would wait,**_

 _ **And watch from far away.**_

 _ **But you always knew that you'd be the one,**_

 _ **That work while they all play."**_

* * *

Quince Lazarre's house was never quiet, but it always felt like it was missing something.

He had a mother, a father, a younger brother, and a younger sister. Including himself, there were 5 people already in the household, him being the eldest brother. It was a full middle-class house, but there was something gone that would never come back.

There would have been 6 people living in that house instead of 5. Note the _would have._

Quince had an older brother named Minoru. Minoru didn't die or anything like that; he was still alive and doing well. But he...severed the bonds between him and his family, you could say.

Minoru was always a bit reckless and careless. When he was 19 years old, he _proposed_ to his so-called girlfriend, a young lady the same age as him who was _known_ across the District for breaking up with people. She would steal a man's heart, and then stomp all over it. In fact, she had reputation for doing that. Minoru was sure she "changed her ways", but Quince wasn't quite as ready to say that.

The Lazarre parents put their foot down when they heard the news. They never were really comfortable around Minoru's future fiancee, and they thought she was rather a bad influence. The whole breaking-hearts thing, and whatnot. They tried to talk Minoru out of the marriage, but it was too late. He hadn't told anyone he was planning on proposing, so it came as sort of a shock to them. The duo just worsened things; Minoru was determined on marrying his soon-to-be wife no matter what. It resulted in a huge fight, causing Minoru to move out of the house. He bought another house on the other side of town for himself, and for his girlfriend. The last thing Minoru ever said to his family was: "I hate you. I'm marrying her no matter what." Minoru was very cold to them every since, and the Lazarre family hadn't been in contact with him. Every time they attempted to talk to him if they saw him at work or someplace around the District, he would dismiss a word they said. Quince had been hearing rumors at school, though, that his brother's wife had split up with him for another man. But Quince was not completely sure it was true. It probably was, though - he had heard it from the mayor's son, who always knew everything going on in the District.

So as Quince listened to his younger 7 year old sister Cerise's begs for his younger 11 year old brother Winston to play with her, he felt happy and sad at the same time. He couldn't help thinking that things were good the way they used to be - when Minoru was a good brother to them.

* * *

 **Isobel Wild**

 _ **District Eleven Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **And now, I don't wanna take you if we fall down, don't get upset,**_

 _ **And now, is just the beginning,**_

 _ **And we'll figure it out somehow,**_

 _ **Right now, masquerade."**_

* * *

Isobel walked across the Reaping Square, getting into line. _Good thing I'm not wearing heels this year,_ she thought giddily. The previous year, her mother had somehow talked her into wearing high heels, but everything went downhill. It was a disaster. Isobel did not want to go into detail, but it did involve her almost breaking both her legs. Now she was wearing simple brown sandals, and a plain white sundress that flowed to her knees. She wore a wreath of sunflowers around her head. Her dark hair was out, and blowing in the gentle breeze.

Her finger was pricked, and Isobel traipsed to the proper section. It was her 4th year at the Reapings. She had to wait a little bit before the Reapings began, and she didn't have anyone she was familiar with surrounding her. Isobel recognized some faces from school, but she wasn't well-acquainted with those people. She tried to do Matt's positive thinking to kill time. _I won't get Reaped. I won't get Reaped._

Scanning the other sections of the possible Reaping candidates, Isobel spotted Circe Tully, her other best friend, in the 17 year old girls section. They met at school, when they were very young. They had really hit it off when they met, and were great buds. They waved to each other with smiles on their faces.

Circe had just turned 17 the past three days ago, and Isobel was nervous for her. Circe was not the richest person around. In fact, she was fairly on the poor side. That meant the 17 year old female had to take out lots of tesserae to support her family. Hopefully, Circe would not get Reaped, either.

Isobel turned her head around some more, and finally located Matthias in the front of the 18 year old male section. She waved to him as well.

They had the same escort for a few years now, maybe six years? She was too excited and happy. Who would be happy about the Games?

Her name was Sylvia Metal, and she was a 30 year old with indigo purple dyed hair. It wasn't a wig, surprisingly. This year her hair was in a high bun. Her eyes were a dark blue color. Sylvia was wearing a navy blue dress to match her eye color. The dress was thigh-length with real flowers on it. _Seriously?_

Isobel hated everything about the Capitol and what they stood for; she was usually fair and didn't judge a book by its color, but they did not have the right to send innocent kids into the Games.

After a little wait, Sylvia leaned closer to the microphone. "It's the 76th Annual Hunger Games!" She announced excitedly. Sylvia even did a little twirl. Isobel resisted the urge to throw something at her in disgust.

When Sylvia was done... _twirling_ , she said that the Treaty was going to be read. The whole time the mayor was reading it, Isobel was staring at the ground, trying to do more positive thinking.

When it was time, Isobel paid more attention to what was going on. If it was boys first, then she would be nervous for Matthias. If it was ladies first, she would be nervous for herself.

"We'll do ladies first." Sylvia said.

 _I'm doomed._

Sylvia hopped toward the girl's bowl. She sure had a lot of energy, for a middle-aged woman. She began to get a slip, but dropped it back in and decided to grab a different one. _Please don't let it be me. Please!_

The indigo-haired escort smiled mysteriously. "I wonder who it will be?"

Isobel was pretty sure everyone in the District wanted to kick the woman.

Sylvia took her time opening the slip. When it was completely open, she said into the microphone, "Isobel Wild."

Well, it seemed like Matt's positive thinking didn't always work. Maybe the Reapings were rigged so a relative of a Victor could go into the Games. Isobel grimly walked to the stage. She did not cry, nor scream or throw a fit. She simply had accepted her fate - her fate that she was going to die.

Once she mounted the steps to the stage and stood in her correct spot, she searched in the crowd for Circe and Matt. They were in shock, jaws hanging open and tears streaming down their faces. Isobel looked away - if she looked at them again she'd start crying, and she had to look strong for the cameras.

Isobel focused on the male tribute's name being called. He would soon be her District partner. "Quince Lazarre."

Everyone in the 18 year old male section parted and made a pathway for the unlucky boy. The guy who was Reaped stood out to Isobel right away - he was looking around helplessly, waiting to see if someone would Volunteer. _Hate to break it to you, but no one Volunteers in District 11._ The future male tribute was wearing a white button up shirt and a pair of dark blue denim jeans, with plain black dress shoes.

He sighed heavily and deeply once he realized no one was going to Volunteer. Quince frowned and walked to the stage. His hands were visibly shaking, so he clenched them into fists and walked up the steps.

"Your tributes are: Isobel Wild and Quince Lazarre!" Sylvia called into the mic. "Shake hands, you two."

Isobel and Quince shook hands, sealing their fate.

Forever.

* * *

 **Quince Lazarre**

 _ **District Eleven Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **As a child you would wait,**_

 _ **And watch from far away.**_

 _ **But you always knew that you'd be the one,**_

 _ **That work while they all play."**_

* * *

Quince couldn't believe it. He was a tribute, one of the Capitol's game pieces.

He couldn't make himself believe that he was coming back.

In through the door burst Cerise, Winston, and his parents. Cerise rushed to Quince and hugged him around his legs. "Quince, where are you going?"

The 18 year old knelt down and hugged his 7 year old sister tightly. "A place far away where I might not come back." _Scratch that, I_ definitely _won't come back._ Quince thought to himself.

Winston hugged Quince, too. "I'll miss you." He said sadly. He was going to be eligible for the Reapings the following year.

Quince's parents embraced him gently.

"You can do it." His mother whispered, crying but still holding tight. "I know you can."

After lots of hugs and kisses, they were booted out by the harsh Peacekeeper Quince was assigned to. He wasn't expecting anyone else, so he just sat on the couch and thought.

Quince was muscular enough, and on the good-looking side. Maybe he could earn some sponsors from those traits. He never tried using any weapons before, but he'd surely learn in the Training Center.

He drew up his arena plan in his mind. He'd get some allies and survive off them for a few days, until they would eventually have to split up. Then he would try to kill as many people as possible, for more sponsors.

Quince would, however, stand no chance against the Careers or against another strong tribute. He could just imagine being ripped to shreds by a sword or an axe, and maybe just at the bloodbath, too. He wanted a quick and easy death, if he were to die.

Maybe against a weaker tribute, he could kill. It would hurt to kill someone else, but he knew he had to do it.

If he wanted to get back home to his family, he'd try anything.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Isobel Wild: "** _ **Masquerade"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nicki Minaj)**_

 **Quince Lazarre: "** _ **Warriors"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

* * *

 **Hey guys, we're almost completely done the Reapings! Yay! Also, please vote on the poll which will be posted right after this chapter is up - I need to know who you guys want to see on the train rides. So, after you read/review this chapter, check that out!**

 **Thanks for all your support and reviews - I love you guys all so much.**

' **Bye!**


	14. Chapter 14 - District Twelve Reapings

**Chapter 14 - Posted (3/25/16)**

* * *

 **Lignite Parker**

 _ **District Twelve Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We all are living in a dream,  
But life ain't what it seems,**_

 _ **Oh everything's a mess,**_

 _ **And all these sorrows I have seen."**_

* * *

Lignite shook himself awake from the nightmare of what had happened the day after he turned 18 years old. He bolted upright and dug his face in his hands. He started crying, crying…

But no one would ever hear him.

Lignite was like this for a while, but he eventually calmed down. After his sudden outburst, he plopped down on his bed to think about his life.

There wasn't much to his life. He didn't have any parents. Nor did he have any siblings. Well, he _used_ to have family. His mother was a kind, generous house maid who worked cleaning the mayor's house. His father was a jolly, humorous man who wanted nothing but people to be happy. His younger 10 year old brother, Anthracite, was just a geeky nerd who wanted to get scholarship and further advance his learning.

But everything changed the second day he was officially 18 years old.

 _It was late at night, but his mother was still up in their house's kitchen. She was making some food and was using the oven. Lignite wasn't exactly sure what had gone wrong, but he was awake in his bedroom. He tossed and turned, but he couldn't go to sleep. On the other hand, his brother and father in the other room were sound asleep. Well, whatever happened, a fire started in the house. Lignite reacted when it was a_ bit _too late; when he started to smell smoke, the fire was advancing toward the upstairs part of his home. Lignite had rushed to the door and put his hand on it, just like he learned to do in class. It was searing hot. That meant no other option for him. He picked up a heavy object - in this case, his desk - and slammed it right at his window. Glass shards flew everywhere, and one stuck to his left wrist, but otherwise Lignite was okay. He stepped down into the lawn by the windowsills, and he remembered calling for help once he reached safety. His parents and his brother was still in there! By then, the house was a raging inferno. Neighbors alerted the Peacekeepers there was a fire, and the Peacekeepers came, but by then there was nothing they could do. All that remained of the house was black ash and a burned building._

 _His parents and Anthracite did not make it._

Lignite gently touched his wrist, where the scar still remained. The scar of the glass shard that flew into his wrist. It wasn't deep, so his wound was okay, but it definitely hurt when it was pulled out.

He partially blamed himself for what happened. He could've gone back for them - o-or something. They didn't have to die. It could've been him instead.

Lignite mourned their death so much, he started to become depressed. Being one of the most popular people in school, the people at his school knew all about what happened.

He was popular for being kind and a great friend. But now, he was just depressed.

Lignite dumped his girlfriend, Cleo - it was hard, because they'd also been childhood friends and know each other since forever. He had been there for her when she fell and broke her arm when they were 7 years old. He had been there for her when her parents split up at 12 years old. He was there for her when her parents decided to get back together at 14 years old. But now he wasn't. Everything was different.

He started to lose esteem and confidence. Everyone at school felt bad for him and tried to help as much as they could, he couldn't bear to listen to "I'm so sorry," and "I'm sorry for your loss." What do they have to be sorry about?

Lignite then decided to sign up for being a coal miner, and went to the mines everyday, trying to drown his thoughts in work. He was still at school, but just barely passed. At work, he moved like a zombie, going through a life he didn't want. At home, he spent most of his time crying.

Lignite's life would never be the same - he was a lone wolf, scarred forever.

* * *

 **Delia Montgomery**

 _ **District Twelve Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **But even if the stars and moon collide,**_

 _ **I never want you back into my life,**_

 _ **You can take your words and all your lies,**_

 _ **Oh oh oh I really don't care."**_

* * *

Delia awoke to the smell of freshly-baked bread from the bakery downtown. With a huge smile on her face, she hopped out of bed and ran to the kitchen. "Good morning!" She called half heartedly, not really meaning the "good" part. Bread was her favorite food - the _Mellark Bakery_ made the best ones.

"Hi, honey. Did you have a good sleep?" Her mother, Roselyn, asked. Delia ignored her and just helped herself to the food.

"Why so happy?" Her father, Anthony, questioned his daughter. He was a grumpy man who always had a scowl on his face.

And just like that, Delia's happiness faded. "Isn't it normal for a 17 year old allowed to be happy every once in awhile?" She grabbed her plate in a huff and sat as far away as she could from her father.

Roselyn tried to shoot her husband an angry look, but Anthony scoffed back at her.

Delia was never usually _happy._ The teenage girl took that trait from her father - they were both usually manipulative and calculating.

The 17 year old scarfed down her bread, quick as a snap, and hurried upstairs to her bedroom. She had to get ready for the Reapings.

Staring at herself in her bathroom mirror, Delia studied herself. She had brown, wavy hair that went up to her upper-back. Her eyes were a chocolate brown color, which held no warmth whatsoever. Her skin was a tan color. Delia was slim and slender, with a striking figure. She was naturally tall, standing at 5'9". She was relatively well-fed, coming from the merchant's side of town. She _may_ have looked like she came from the Seam, but she was from the merchant side.

Delia took most of her features from her father, and she hated that prospect.

After brushing out her brunette hair, she laid down the comb gently on the countertop and tied her hair in a low ponytail. Delia then added a pink ribbon to her hair, which which go along with the pair of shoes she picked out for the occasion.

Hurrying out of the bathroom, she moved to her bedroom. Her bedroom had yellow flower wallpaper, and there was a beige rug. All the furniture was especially crafted for her.

In her wardrobe, she picked out a simple, plain white dress that reached her knees. The sleeves were one inch long. And for shoes, she took out the three inch light pink heels, the ones that would match her ribbon perfectly.

Delia looked in the bathroom mirror again on her way downstairs. She could still see traces of her father in her eyes. She and her father mostly butt heads. They did not have a very strong relationship. Sometimes Delia wondered why her mother had married a man like that. Roselyn did not deserve to have a harsh father for a husband.

Speaking of her parents, they were huge Capitol supporters. Delia would agree with their opinion. Well, their appearances were more than a little extreme, but their lifestyle was fascinating. She admired how they got to live a free, easy life. She had always wanted to see it.

Turning away from the mirror, she walked back downstairs. The Reapings were going to begin, and soon.

* * *

 **Lignite Parker**

 _ **District Twelve Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We all are living in a dream,  
But life ain't what it seems,**_

 _ **Oh everything's a mess,**_

 _ **And all these sorrows I have seen."**_

* * *

Lignite was empty, hollow. Today, two people would be sent off to death, and hopefully he was not one of them. If it wasn't him, then he would be forced to stand back and watch them die. Doing nothing to save them.

Like he didn't save his family.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Lignite had to stay strong. For his family. For himself. For everyone.

He stood in his section - the 18 year old male section - for a little while. He had came there early. His mother always said: " _It's better early than late."_ Meanwhile, his father would contradict her statement: " _It's better late than never."_ But Lignite did have to agree with his mother. Especially on Reaping Day. It was not something that anyone should miss.

Effie Trinket was preparing herself for the cameras. She had been their escort for who knows how long, and Lignite hated her. She looked like a clown, or a plastic doll. And her skin was so white, it could've been mistaken for gray. He rolled his eyes. _Plastic surgery._

The past two years ago, their own Victor Haymitch Abernathy had fell off the stage. He was drunk at that time, but after Primrose Everdeen won, he had became more sober. Hope was restored to him that a District 12 tribute could win the Games once more. Well, he was still a sarcastic, snarky man, but that was - well, _Haymitch._

Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Prim was looking a bit nervous. Not only was Haymitch not showing up, but it was Katniss Everdeen, her sister's, last year at the Reapings. Now that Prim was a Victor, Katniss no longer had to take out any tesserae. But Katniss' name was in there 7 times.

Effie began the Reapings quickly. "Welcome, to the 76th Hunger Games." She said happily. She began rambling and babbling about random, trivial Hunger Games things.

Lignite did not listen to anything until it was time for the female's drawing of the slip.  
"Let's pick a name, shall we?" Effie smiled wide, flashing her white teeth. "As usual, ladies first."

She teetered across the stage to the designated bowl and searched high and low for the right slip. Not on the top, not on the bottom, but somewhere in the middle would do. She plucked a name carefully from the right area, and walked back to the microphone. She brought it up to her face, and unveiled it using her sharp, manicured nails. Then Effie announced, "Delia Montgomery." Prim visibly relaxed - Katniss was safe from the Games forever.

Silence filled the Reaping Square as a tall, pretty girl shuffled to the stage with her head held high. She was sure a confident teen. Keeping her expression impassive and cold, she met Effie's eyes as she ascended the steps to the stage. Once getting there, she announced, "My name is Delia Montgomery. I promise I'll bring District 12 another Victor this year."

She was met with silence. Obviously, the audience did not believe her.

Effie said, "Such confidence. Now, for the boys." She repeated the same theatrics, and once again selected a name from the bottom. Lignite took a deep breath - it was his last Reapings. He had to take out a lot of tesserae. It was a good chance that the slip probably had his name. _Please don't say Lignite Parker. Please don't say Lignite Parker. Please don't say -_

"Lignite Parker!"

The 18 year old mentally sighed. Ignoring everyone's stares, he walked to the stage with a blank expression. Once getting to the stage, Effie declared to the crowd, "Delia Montgomery and Lignite Parker: Your tributes for the 76th Hunger Games!" Then she turned to the two teens, 17 and 18 years old respectively. "Shake hands, please." Effie instructed them.

Delia put her hand out daintily for the handshake, but Lignite just turned away in disgust. He walked forward to the Justice Building, defying the Capitol's handshaking laws.

* * *

 **Delia Montgomery**

 _ **District Twelve Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **But even if the stars and moon collide,**_

 _ **I never want you back into my life,**_

 _ **You can take your words and all your lies,**_

 _ **Oh oh oh I really don't care."**_

* * *

Delia's jaw wouldn't work anymore.

Her brown eyes, now red, were still producing tears, which flowed down her face in an unwomanly-like fashion. She wiped them off on her arm, but more kept coming.

Her parents had just left from seeing her - they had shared one last hug until their time was over. Yes, she did hate her father, but inside she knew both parents cared for her more than anything in the world. Her mother had given her a silver pendant attached to a chain, which could serve as a necklace. It was Delia's token.

However strong and confident she looked on that Reaping stage, it was all a lie. Behind her mask of lies, she was just a weak girl who was a spoiled brat.

Delia's thoughts melted away once the door opened again - and Tomoko Hollins walked in. He had dark brown, curly hair and bright blue eyes. Delia still remembered when they met each other.

Delia has managed to manipulate some boys who have done her an unintentional wrong (mostly unimportant things like staring at her too long) into loving her by showing them a kind soul that doesn't exist. She then tries to break them. She had a habit of doing this, and for some reason, she didn't have the heart to break Tomoko. Delia, instead, started hanging out with him and they were friends ever since. She wasn't sure if she liked him romantically, but in the meanwhile they were _just friends._

Tomoko _was_ 19 years old, after all.

He gave her a short hug. "You can do it, Delia. You can win." He whispered. "Go into hiding, don't trust anyone. Kill if you have to - just come home, okay?"

Delia nodded and squeezed him back. Afterward, he left, and she sank down to the couch.

Now that he had mentioned it, how was she going to kill another person in cold blood?

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Lignite Parker: "** _ **Dream"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

 **Delia Montgomery: "** _ **Really Don't Care"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

* * *

 _ **Reapings are finished!**_ **Yes! *throws a party and dances but accidentally knocks over a glass vase* I don't even know. I just felt like I had to add that. I'm so happy! I know this chapter was kind of written badly, but I just wanted to give you guys something to read.**

 **Anyway, in your review, can you please tell me what some pet peeves you have about SYOTs are? On my bio I'm starting a little section called "Pet Peeves - The Hunger Games SYOTs". Write in your reviews some pet peeves** _ **you**_ **have, and I'll try to add it to the list. Examples are SYOTs not updating, etc…**

 **Also, on the train rides I'm taking the Top 8 Districts. I'll write 4 of the Districts in a first chapter, and 4 of the other Districts in the second chapter. Don't worry if your tribute is not in the Top 8; I'll make sure to feature them first for tribute parades and training.**

 **See you on the train!**


	15. Chapter 15 - Train Rides One

**Chapter 15 - Posted ( 3/28/16)**

* * *

 **District Seven: Rowan Mattock and Celine Woodman**

* * *

Rowan stared out the window, depressed, as the train pulled away from District 7 forever. He tried to get the last glimpses of his home before it was yanked out of his grip.

Celine Woodman was his 14 year old District partner. There was something different to her, but he couldn't place it. Now she sat next to him. "We're going to die, aren't we." She said it like a statement, more than a question.

Rowan looked up, surprised. Celine accepted the fact she was going to die already? "Yeah, I guess so." He said quietly.

Celine shrugged. "Well, look at it this way. Everyone dies sooner or later. No one's immortal. People die of old age, accidents, and whatnot. In this lifetime, we're going to die with knives in our chests, with swords in our throats, with spears in our stomachs. But in the next lifetime, we'll die in a better place than the arena."

Rowan had to admit - what she had said was motivating. "That's true." He finally said, after thinking it over.

Celine smiled at him. She was a charming little girl, he had to admit. He already felt like he knew her all his life, but in reality he never had seen her before and only met her this day. Rowan felt like he had to offer her something. "Do you want to be allies?"

The redhead looked slightly surprised by the question, but he kept rambling. "We can help each other get supplies, and we can help each other stay alive. We can split at Top 10." Rowan added breathlessly.

Celine nodded, slowly. "Well...sure, why not." They smiled at each other again, but after that there was an awkward silence. Celine had began zoning out, concentrating on something that Rowan didn't know.

The door was a savior.

The door slammed open, making both tributes jump. A young, dangerous-looking woman stormed in, with a brunette-haired man following her.

The woman motioned to the tributes. "Up. Now."

Celine and Rowan nervously stood up, and were directed to the couch once again by the woman.

They introduced themselves. "Johanna Mason." The woman snapped lazily. _That's Johanna?_ Rowan swallowed anxiously. _She looks like she could kill someone with her eyes._

"And I'm Blight Forrester." The male said, standing as far away from Johanna as possible. He looked afraid of her, too. "We're your mentors for the 76th Hunger Games, and we hope we can get one of you back."

Johanna jumped in. "Or you can just die. Dying is easier than being a Victor. And not because you have to survive the arena; because you have to survive life afterwards."

Celine looked mildly confused, but didn't say anything.

"We're going to watch the Reapings now." Johanna continued in a clipped tone. She picked up a black device, called a _remote_ _control,_ and hit a button. The TV powered on, and automatically tuned into the Reapings recap.

The District One symbol flashed on the screen, before continuing to the Reapings.

The escort was a golden blonde haired woman. She started off with the male tributes. When she Reaped someone, a tall, blonde boy stepped forward from the 18 year old section and Volunteered. He sprinted like the wind to the stage, easily passing a few boys, and arrived there first.

His name was apparently _**Clarence Reiss.**_ He looked like tough competition; muscles, and he seemed trained.

Rowan gulped. Would he even stand a chance against Clarence?

For the girls, there was another Volunteer. This time it was an eccentric-looking teen, judging from the black marker drawings all over her arms. Her name was _**Jayda Newell,**_ and she looked as tough as Clarence did.

As the Capitol flashed the District Two symbol, both District Seven tributes sat back on the couch in horror. The Games hadn't even started, and they could already say one thing: _We're gonna die._

* * *

 **District Eight: Dylan Tweed and Azalea Sequins**

* * *

Dylan was sobbing his eyes out. Azalea just stared at him in sympathy. Both of them weren't paying much attention to the TV, even though Cecelia, their escort, and Woof were urging them to.

It was the District Two Reapings recap. They had already seen District One, where both tributes seemed like a big threat. Anyhow, District Two was the District that usually produced the strongest, most brutal Careers. Dylan and Azalea looked at the TV warily, trying to determine who'd be the leader of the Career Pack this year. The escort, a stammering young woman named Amelia Flutter, started with the boys first, much like the luxury District.

 _ **Vulcan Hardy**_ was Reaped. That was a surprise. The District Two male was usually the leader of the Career Pack, but the Careers would not want a Reaped leader.

"Maybe he won't be in the Career Pack at all." Azalea noted. Cecelia nodded in agreement, "But he looks trained. If he proves himself, he'll be in. Keep your eye on him; he might pose a threat."

When the escort went to get another slip, for the girls, Vulcan knocked over the bowl. Dylan and the 16 year old teen gasped; what a rebel. The escort had to get a slip by her foot. But they didn't know what _sort_ of rebel he was...

The female tribute was named _**Hestia Gabbro.**_ She was a typical-looking Career, strong and dangerous. She would definitely be one to look out for.

The District Three seal appeared on the screen after the two shook hands.

"Wow." Woof shook his head.

Azalea nodded, but kept her eyes trained on the big screen as the image of District Three appeared on the screen.

There wasn't much to goggle at; factories, ashen buildings...that sort of thing. Everything seemed dark and gloomy. That kind of matched Azalea's mood.

"That kind of looks like our District." Dylan remarked. He felt a pang in his heart, remembering all of his good memories from his District he just left behind. His chest tightened. _Raul, Lara…_

He pushed those thoughts away. He should focus on the present, not the past.

It was their first glimpse of the non-Career tributes. The girl was unimpressive-looking, though there definitely was something to her that they couldn't place. Her name was _**Eudora Macintosh.**_

The boy was _**Huxley Cathode.**_ He was scrawny, and not very impressive, either. But there was something about him, too, that was different than the rest of the District.

"Well, they shouldn't be that hard to take down." Azalea told her mentors and the escort. It was true; even _Dylan_ looked like he could take on those two.

The next District gave a different vibe than the previous. It seemed tranquil and peaceful, but at the same time it was a Career District. Dylan wished he could live there instead. Everyone in District Four looked like they lived the easy life.

It was quite an amusing show to see the female Volunteer. Two blonde girls were fighting to get to the stage first, and they were fighting in a literal manner. The shorter and younger looking of the two managed to tackle the other girl, who looked oddly similar to her. Sisters, maybe?

Obviously, the younger girl got to the stage first. Her name was _**Ebony Williams.**_

The boy didn't make his Volunteering scene big. He simply said, "I Volunteer." and walked to the stage.

A show or not, they'd definitely have to watch out for the Careers. Even though the District Three tributes seemed on the weak side, they might have something up their sleeve.

In the Hunger Games, anything could happen.

* * *

 **District One: Clarence Reiss and Jayda Newell**

* * *

"That's our Career Pack." Jayda concluded, as the recap moved onto District Five.

Clarence nodded. "We're not having that District Two guy in our Pack, though." He raised his eyebrow at her, a skill he mastered many years ago, daring her to disagree.

Jayda just raised her own eyebrow back at him. "We'll have to see if he proves himself."

Clarence didn't like the sound of that. _He_ wanted to be the leader of the Career Pack, and he didn't want anyone to steal that position from him.

He paid close attention to the Reapings. The male's name was being called first, and that name was _**Roy Lentz.**_ At first, he was slowly trying to slink away, and even Clarence did not notice that movement. When the cameras finally trained on him, Peacekeepers began to collect him. This Roy Lentz sure had the nerve to put up with Peacekeepers, but both of the District One tributes had to admit he was a stealthy kid.

 _ **Kinsie Surge**_ was the female. She was a 12 year old, but she wasn't weak-looking. She actually had a fire in her eyes; Kinsie was sure feisty.

"Poor kid. We'll kill her first." Jayda clucked her tongue, and laughed sarcastically.

Clarence smirked. They sure would.

Gloss asked, "Isn't her last name familiar? Connor Surge?"

Cashmere slowly nodded to her brother. "A few years back. He almost won. They're probably related."

District Six was up next. Unfortunately, the girl, _**Zoe Mercedes,**_ seemed like competition. When her name was called, she had laughed snarkily and shouted angrily to the escort. Then she walked to the stage flashing a rude sign at the cameras.

"Maybe she's trained. We have an open spot in the Career Pack every year, so maybe we can invite her." Clarence suggested. Jayda nodded.

The boy was not as impressive. _**Louis Lindbergh**_ , his name was.

"We're thinking about inviting the District Six girl," Clarence called over his shoulder to his mentors, Cashmere and Gloss.

Cashmere walked over. "She _does_ look quite strong, maybe even trained." The blonde woman noted as she watched Zoe on the screen. "I'd say observe her in Training. If she's good, invite her."

District Seven was next, and Jayda watched the screen with observant eyes. Sometimes the lumber District produced worthy tributes, and they could sometimes be threats.

No such luck this year. The girl looked skinny, and had no muscles. She also looked on the young side. There was something about her, _**Celine Woodman**_ was her name. And _**Rowan Mattock,**_ the said boy, looked okay, but if you studied him enough he appeared shy and nervous. Not good traits, not good traits at all.

Jayda smiled. "We'll be able to take down these people easily."

Clarence thought so, too.

Victory finally was his.

* * *

 **District Three: Huxley Cathode and Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

* * *

Huxley wanted to ball up and cry. He wanted to bang his fists. He wanted to punch someone.

His life was taken away from him.

He turned to Beetee. "I want it back."

Beetee eyed him warily. "Want what?"

"My old life."

Eudora, who had been watching the TV while scarfing down something called _chocolate,_ turned to Huxley. "I wouldn't really want to go back - my mom hated me."

Huxley was astonished. What kind of parents hated their kids? "What do you mean?"

Eudora just shrugged at him and didn't answer.

On the television set, District Eight was up. A young, brown-haired boy from the 13 year old section was dragged to the stage. Huxley felt bad for him - his name was _**Dylan Tweed.**_ He didn't pose much of a threat, but still. The girl was 16 years old, and still didn't look that strong. She definitely looked like she could take down Dora or Huxley if she wanted to, though. Her name was _**Azalea Sequins.**_

Next, District Nine's seal was shown before continuing into the recap. First, there was a pretty-looking teen named _**Rosemary Fields,**_ who looked very kind and nice. She seemed sweet. Maybe Dora could ally with her…?

The next part was a show. When the boy, 15 year old _**Casimir Moretti,**_ was Reaped, a girl who looked strangely similar to Casimir began screaming.

The girl was shot dead.

Right on the spot.

Eudora shrieked and covered her eyes with her hands; Huxley turned away in despair. The first blood of the Games had been drawn, and it was not in the arena.

Beetee whispered, "That might've been his sister."

The recap finished, and the District Ten seal was now on the screen.

Eudora exhaled and leaned back in her chair. "What do you think of the tributes so far, Hux?"

Huxley cringed at the nickname. _Hux._ His family called him that before. "We don't stand a chance." He said flatly.

Beetee shrugged. "You get a chance to learn weapons in Training. Maybe you'll make it far - who knows?"

Dora asked a question. "Do we think we should ally?"

"Only with people who are trustworthy. Maybe you two should ally together," Their mentor added. "Allies help you get far in the arena, and you can split up at Top 8 or so."

Huxley and Dora looked at each other and nodded. They agreed for a temporary alliance.

On the screen, a 17 year old teen named _**Taurus Whittaker**_ was Reaped. He was different, in ways that were very visible. Taurus threw a tantrum, but stopped soon afterward and tried to run. He was caught easily, and dragged to the stage. The girl, _**Casey Taurus,**_ was Reaped as well. She looked defeated, in a battle she couldn't possibly win.

"Taurus and Taurus." Beetee noted. "Sponsors will like how their names are similar."

Huxley sighed heavily, turning to look out the window sadly. He hadn't even _thought_ about sponsors.

Clearly he had much to learn about the life of the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used - N/A**

* * *

 **Hey again! This is the first train ride chapter. What do you think? Just some recaps to refresh all your memories. More interactions will be shown next chapter, and the last of the recaps will be in the first section. It's kind of repetitive, I know, but you'll also get to see what all the tributes think of one another.**

 **Anyway, I forgot to do this last chapter, but some questions:**

 **Favorite overall District?**

 **Favorite tribute?**

 **Favorite female tribute?**

 **Favorite male tribute?**

 **Thanks for reading. We'll see the Districts that placed from 5th-8th place on the poll in the next chapter. The people who had not had any featuring on the train rides will be shown during the tribute parade.**

' **Bye!**


	16. Chapter 16 - Train Rides Two

**Chapter 16 - Posted on ( 3/29/16)**

* * *

 **District Nine: Casimir Moretti and Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

* * *

Casimir still wasn't over the death of Tessa. The pain was like a wound reopening; fresh as a flower. It didn't help that, when he watched the recap, he seen it all over again. Casimir knew he couldn't do anything about it, but he wished so desperately that she was still alive. Or that the bullet hadn't gone through her head, and went somewhere else instead. Her stomach, her leg, her foot. Anywhere but somewhere that would kill her.

Rosemary was patting his back, trying to comfort him. Things were still a little awkward between them. He didn't want to talk at the moment. Sure, she was a nice girl, but Casimir's sister was nice, too. He didn't want anything to remind him of Tessa.

The TV was blaring out the recap of District Eleven. The escort, and two retired Capitol Gamemakers, watched with interest.

Casimir glared at the Capitol people. It was unfair that their District didn't have any living Victors, and their District had to resort to taking retired Capitol Gamemakers as _mentors._ Of course, they weren't being of much help.

Their escort, whose name they learned was _Reyna,_ was still trying to act cheerful even though her facial expressions were very false. Their "mentors" were Faith and Ianne. Faith was their female mentor, a cold-hearted, calculating woman who was very organized. She hated for anything to be off schedule, and she was currently jotting down notes about the other tributes in a little notebook. Ianne, their male mentor, was a middle-aged man who was wise but was rude and didn't like to say much. All in all, Rosie and Casimir would not win at this rate.

 _ **Isobel Wild**_ was currently being Reaped. Reyna murmured in approval when Isobel didn't cry. Reyna seemed to like courageous, brave tributes. Rosie peered over Faith's shoulder at the notes she was writing. Written in neat handwriting, Isobel's traits said: _Spunky, brave, does not cry._

"Is that Seeder's granddaughter?" Reyna asked the Gamemakers.

Rosie and Casimir merely shrugged. They knew Seeder was a Victor of one of the Hunger Games, and they knew she was from District Eleven, but they did not know much about her otherwise.

Faith looked at the screen and studied Isobel. She had watched Seeder's arena experience multiple times, when she was training to be a Gamemaker. Isobel and Seeder indeed looked similar. "I suppose so. I heard Seeder had a granddaughter, but I never learned her name."

"Seeder? Oh, she's boring." Ianne drawled.

Rosie shot him a disturbed look. "I don't care how boring, lame, or disgusting you think Seeder is. The point is, Casimir and I are going into the Games and we need some advice. If you're not going to take your job seriously, then you might as well leave." She said in a mature, _I'll-handle-this_ tone. When her outburst was over, she looked surprised at her own words.

Ianne sighed angrily and got up. He walked out the room and into the next train car, slamming the separating door as he left.

Rosie started to shake. "I-I really didn't mean to say something. Maybe I-I should apologize-"

Faith shook her head in amusement. "Don't bother. Ianne's always been that way."

They resumed to watching the Reapings. When a _**Quince Lazarre**_ was Reaped, Casimir and Rosie felt bad for him. Quince's hands shook and he attempted to control them. _But you can't control your fate._ Rosie thought sadly.

Next, and last, was District Twelve. It was the mining District, and the least heard-of District. No word of what happened there got out to the other Districts, but it was supposedly very poor.

"Hey, where's Haymitch?" Casimir rubbed his eyes and glanced at the screen. He noticed the Abernathy was there; ever since he fell off the stage during the 74th Hunger Games Reapings, his siblings and him had made it a game to see if he'd fall off the stage again the next years. No such luck this year; he wasn't even there.

No one answered. They clearly didn't know. Victors were supposed to be at every Reaping, so they could see who they were going to mentor.

Reyna shrugged at them and turned back to the television set.

The girl who was Reaped was sure confident. She walked to the stage with her head held high, being very emotionless and cruel. Her name was _**Delia Montgomery.**_

Faith wrote: _Confident, impassive, daring, dangerous. May be a threat._ She would have to keep an eye on this _Delia._

The boy was as interesting. _**Lignite Parker**_ did not cry, from the moment he was Reaped to the moment he was on the stage. _Emotionless, blank._

The Capitol symbol flashed on the screen once again before the TV went black. The recaps were over.

Faith sighed and held out the notebook for the 15 and 16 year old to see. "Did anyone stand out to you?"

Casimir took the notebook and scanned through the pages. He most definitely would not want to ally with the Careers, but maybe a nice outer-lying District alliance would do. Rosie peeked at the notebook from next to him.

Rosie turned to Casimir. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ally with you. We could help each other out. Back in the District, I was an apprentice at the herbal school. I could heal you if you came down to it."

Casimir nodded. "Alliance accepted. I worked in the fields, so I can use a scythe." He added as an afterthought.

They paged through the notebook, studying Faith's notes. Casimir pointed to a single name in the notebook: _Dylan Tweed._ "I felt really, really bad for him. Maybe we could team up with him."

Faith looked at Dylan's notes. "He's only 13 years old. Are you sure about asking him?"

Rosie and Casimir nodded at the same time. _He's not dying on my watch, like Tessa died on mine._ Casimir thought mentally.

Faith sighed, but didn't put up a fight. "Anyone else?"

"Well, not as of now. Rosie responded. "We'll have to look at everyone during training and see." She didn't show it, but she was thinking in her head: _I have a chance._

* * *

 **District Eleven: Quince Lazarre and Isobel Wild**

* * *

Quince stared wordlessly at Isobel.

His 16 year old District Partner was stuffing food into her mouth, sending crumbs flying everywhere, like the world was going to end. Well, maybe the world was going to end on both of their perspectives. They would have to see.

Isobel grinned at him, wiping steak sauce from her chin with a napkin. "You should try some!"

Quince smiled at her in agreement. "I will. Just...maybe control yourself a bit more."

Isobel shrugged and continued biting into her steak.

Quince got a plate, and sampled a little of everything. He didn't have access to the luxury of eating _this_ much, back in District Eleven.

Flavor exploded in his mouth as he bit into fruit. Quince loved it. "This tastes the best."

Soon, no other than Sylvia Metal walked in, along with the mentors. The mentors were Seeder and Chaff. Isobel smiled to her grandmother, excited by the prospect of seeing her again. Well, they had seen each other earlier while watching the recaps, but they had taken a ten minute break before returning to their duties.

"Children!" Sylvia scolded. "Conduct yourselves!"

It was true, but no one could blame them. Quince had juice from a fruit running down his chin, and Isobel had crumbs all over her mouth.

Seeder rest her hand on Sylvia's arm. "Let them be."

Sylvia sighed in defeat, but pulled up a chair. "We watched the recaps. Who did you think was a threat, who do you think should be eliminated immediately, and who do you think you want to ally with?"

Isobel chewed and swallowed before answering. "Careers are a threat, and should be taken out quickly. Same for the District Six Girl...Zoe, I think her name is? That District Five Girl has something up her sleeve, and I don't trust her, even if she's 12 years old. I don't want to judge a book by it's cover, but they seem pretty dangerous."

Chaff nodded, and pointed to Quince. "Your thoughts?"

"Same here. We should also keep an eye on the District Twelve pair as well." Quince responded. "I'm thinking that I want to ally with a trustworthy alliance who won't stab me in the back in the middle of the night."

Isobel nodded slowly. "I don't think I want to ally with anyone. We'll see, though."

Seeder continued, "Let's talk about angles. For the chariot parade, your stylists will take care of everything so let's talk about training. Isobel, I know you're trained. Quince, are you?"

Quince shook his head. "But I worked in the fields like everyone else."

"I want you, Quince, to find a primary weapon and survival skills. Isobel, work on your knife throwing and also survival skills. Survival skills are important; you'll need them most." Seeded informed them.

Chaff went on. "For the interviews, you need to decide what angle you want to play. Do you want to appear strong and ruthless to the Capitol? Kind and sweet? Remember that this is all to get sponsors."

Isobel thought hard. Finally, she replied, "I think the 'kind and sweet' thing sounds pretty good for me."

"I want to be friendly and likable. Maybe crack a few jokes here and there." Quince added.

"Sounds good, you two."

Quince grabbed another fruit from the table, causing Sylvia to roll her eyes in disgust as he proceeded to eat it sloppily. He just shared a smile with Isobel.

Sylvia deserved it.

* * *

 **District Two: Vulcan Hardy and Hestia Gabbro**

* * *

Vulcan liked to intimidate Amelia.

She seemed scared of him, so why not have some fun with it?

Hestia had caught onto this plan and liked to do it as well. The two of them would stare at her with mean, threatening glares and raise their eyebrows in a mysterious way at her.

Of course, they had to do it behind Enobaria and Brutus' back. Those mentors were all business.

Currently, Vulcan and Hestia were holed up in the dining room, talking about the Career Pack.

"All the Careers are definitely in." Hestia said, sparing Vulcan a sidelong glance. _Except maybe not you._ "Who do you think is going to be the leader?"

Vulcan helped himself to more soup. "District One guy seems pretty tough." He said casually. He _would_ say that Hestia seemed like a second-in-command, but he didn't want anything to get to her head.

"Any people you're thinking of inviting?" Hestia questioned him.

" _Maybe_ that District Five, Kinsie Surge, if she wants to."

Hestia snorted. "But she's a puny 12 year old! It wouldn't look good if she was with the Careers."

"But she seems pretty strong." Vulcan defended himself. Quickly changing the topic, he added, "Zoe Mercedes seemed pretty good, too."

Hestia shrugged. "I'm thinking Isobel Wild, District Eleven. She seemed trained, and you know Enobaria pointed out she was Seeder's granddaughter."

"True." Vulcan was quiet for a moment. _If I don't win this, I don't know what I'll do. I need to prove to Dad and Lynn that I can do this._

Enobaria walked in. "I need to talk to you two." When she spoke, her sharp teeth flashed.

Hestia and Vulcan nodded, fully on alert. "Where's Brutus?" Vulcan asked. He looked up to Brutus.

"Sleeping." Enobaria dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. Changing the topic, she said, "I need to know of your strengths and weaknesses."

She began sizing them both up. _They're both trained, and they have muscles. They should know their way around weapons, and they're both good-looking enough to get sponsors._

Hestia said, "I'm pretty good with a machete. I also have decent survival skills."

"I'm strong and good with an axe. I have quick reflexes, too." Vulcan offered.

Enobaria smiled, baring her "fangs". "Anything, let's say...you're afraid of?"

Hestia gulped. "Heights." She mumbled.

Vulcan shook his head no, but he was secretly lying. Fire was his weakness.

Enobaria nodded to them, pleased. "Watch out, Panem." She announced. "You've got trouble on your hands."

* * *

 **District Five: Roy Lentz and Kinsie Surge**

* * *

Roy tossed and turned. The train was a fabulous luxury that he never experienced before. The silk of the bedsheets were comfy, and he had changed into comfortable pajamas he had found in a drawer in his new bedroom.

But he couldn't sleep. Everything seemed...wrong, somehow. Like his family should've been there with him. While they were sleeping back in their middle-class home in District Five, he was sleeping in a train heading to the Capitol.

He wished he wasn't going to the Capitol under these circumstances.

Finally giving up on sleep, Roy stood up and opened his compartment's door.

He walked to the living room of the train station and stared out it's window. Into the wilderness beyond, there were trees and plants of all kinds. The sky was above it all, stars twinkling in the dusk. With a pang he realized the sky would be fake in the arena.

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

Roy whipped around, to see if it was one of his mentors, the escort, or possibly…

Kinsie.

Kinsie's face was streaked with tears and it was blotchy with red. With a shock he realized she was crying. But Kinsie always seemed so tough and strong. What happened…?

"What's the matter?" Roy asked stiffly. He wasn't the best people-person.

The 12 year old threw herself onto the couch. "It's just that I'm not ready!" She sobbed. "My brother went into the Games and he _died_ \- how will I survive?"

Roy was shell-shocked. Kinsie did not seem like one to admit weakness.

"It's going to be okay." He said, in a failed attempt to make her feel better. It just made her sob harder.

"Look." He held up some chocolate, left over from the previous day. "Have some chocolate. It'll make you feel better."

They sat in silence, munching on the chocolate together. Kinsie finally said after a while, "I still don't feel ready."

Roy shrugged. "We have training days. And the interviews are sure to get you sponsors. See, everything will be fine."

So why was he trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Kinsie?

* * *

 **Song(s) Used - N/A**

* * *

 **154 reviews in 16 chapters? Thanks so much! You guys are the best!**

 **So finally, train rides are over, too. Tribute parade is next, then two days of training, and then lastly the interviews. After that will be the night before, and then the bloodbath!**

 **See you in the Capitol!**


	17. Chapter 17 - Tribute Parade

**Chapter 17 - Posted ( 3/31/16)**

* * *

 **Lignite Parker**

 _ **District Twelve Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We all are living in a dream,**_

 _ **But life ain't what it seems,**_

 _ **Oh everything's a mess,**_

 _ **And all these sorrows I have seen."**_

* * *

All Lignite felt was extreme pain.

But it wasn't because of leaving District Twelve behind. It wasn't because of he had a brat for a District Partner. It wasn't because he was thinking of what might happen in the arena. He had nothing to live for, anyway.

It was because his prep team.

They had waxed him and scrubbed him. He was apparently very dirty-looking, and unfortunately, they had pointed out all of his flaws. He didn't know he had pimples, and anyway, who cared about that stuff?

At least it was over, and his stylist, Cinna, was bringing an outfit back to him. Lignite paced the floor in his robe, waiting patiently.

Cinna was a cool stylist. He didn't insult Lignite, like his prep teams did. Cinna just seemed like he knew all, and he was a nice guy.

His stylist returned just as Lignite was getting restless. "Here you go," Cinna announced as he gave the outfit to his client. "It's like the ones we used the past two years. You get the simple job of wearing it. I light it up and you'll look great."

Lignite gulped. "With _fire?_ "

Cinna nodded, not noticing Lignite's awkwardness. "Don't worry. You won't feel anything."

He left again as Lignite put on the suit. It was black, and looked fairly simple. Cinna said he wouldn't feel anything, but it didn't look fire-proof. He suddenly hated Cinna more than his prep team.

 _Stop worrying,_ he told himself. _Just don't show weakness, don't look at the video feed, don't look back, and everything will be okay._

Lignite started remembering the night of the fire. His parents, his brother…

He told himself to just stop it. But the thoughts wouldn't go away.

Everything happened in a blur after that. His prep team combed his hair again, and made sure he was camera ready. They even added some _makeup_ to his face. Did boys wear makeup? No. Just...no.

Cinna sent him out to the bottom floor of the Remake Center, which were large stables, to wait to board the chariots. Soon the 18 year old would be entering the Avenue of the Tributes.

It would only be 20 minutes. At least, that's what Cinna had told him. 20 minutes of absolute, horrible, blinding pain.

Lignite nervously waited with Delia as his doom approached. Too bad there was a clock on the wall. The minutes ticked by. _Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…_

Delia came to him. "I can't believe we're actually going to see more of the Capitol!" She exclaimed. "It's so nice here."

Lignite wanted to say, _No, it isn't._ But he just smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

"We're also going to be on TV."

He groaned mentally. The Capitol, the prep team, Cinna, and now they were going to be on TV. With fire suits.

How could be a tribute get any worse?

* * *

 **Ebony Williams**

 _ **District Four Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm,**_

 _ **And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold,**_

 _ **My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones,**_

 _ **It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me."**_

* * *

Ebony's outfit was absolutely gorgeous. She was wearing a ocean blue gown that turned into a lighter, sky blue as it flowed down with a train that hung down gracefully behind her. It draped over her shoulders and crossed once in the back around her slender body, leaving two open side panels of skin and a open back. On the back and cut outs of her dress, there were pieces of blue and green sea glass that covered the openings. There was a blue lace netting overlay. Her hair was loose but curled, and her eyes were covered in golden eye shadow. Her lips were in a full-blast red tone. Her stylist had really outdone herself this year. Yes, she was an annoying, overly excited stylist, but she could work magic when it came to fashion.

Bay was in a similar outfit, but it wasn't a dress, of course. It was a suit.

Ebony was giddy was joy. _Just imagine if Marina was here instead of me. And she's not._ She thought smugly.

She snapped back to reality just in time. The District One pair was approaching them. Ebony gave them a lazy smirk as they came.

The taller of the two stepped forward. "My name's Clarence Reiss. Nice to meet you." His eyes skipped from Ebony's face to Bay's face and back again. "I'm looking forward to being in the Career Pack, and I hope you'll join Jayda and I...if you're capable."

Ebony jumped in. "I'll join, definitely. I'm trained."

Bay agreed.

Clarence nodded. "Wonderful. Thanks so much."

Ebony now felt the need to introduce herself. "I'm Ebony Williams, 17 years old."

"And I'm Bay Riverside, 17 years old as well." Bay told Jayda and Clarence.

"Jayda Newell. 18." Jayda clipped shortly. Jayda stared at her arms. She hadn't stopped staring at them since the stylist prompted _washed off all her designs,_ the ones she worked on for years. If she didn't know better, she would kill her stylist. But she did know better.

Jayda and Clarence, Ebony noted, were both in matching outfits. But not _any_ matching outfits.

Their outfits were made of diamonds. When they turned, sunlight bounced off the jewels and danced around the room. They looked like knockouts. Striking. Stunning. Amazing.

Even their _headdresses_ were made of diamonds.

Ebony stared at their beautiful outfits in wonder, and did not notice someone approaching her until very last minute. A tap came on her shoulder. "Hi."

She whirled around. It was the District Two Female - Hera? Helena? - who had made her way over. Ebony recognized her from watching the recaps.

"I'm Hestia Gabbro," The girl said, reaching her hand out to each Career Pack member to shake hands. "I'm from District Two. I'd like to join the Career Pack, if possible - I'm trained, and I'm also a Volunteer."

Clarence held back a snicker. "Unlike your District Partner over there." The Reaped District Two boy was keeping his distance from the Pack, but studying them carefully. He gave him all a once-over before turning away to look at other tributes.

"That's Vulcan. He's okay - he seems trained but there's something else to him that I can't put my finger on." Hestia told them with a shrug. "So, am I in?"

Everyone looked to Clarence. They didn't do it intentionally. He just had a certain authority to him that said: _I'm the leader here._ He was probably the most dangerous of all of them. He brushed back his brown-blonde hair from his face. "Sure."

A Capitol man came out, gesturing for everyone to board their chariots. It was almost time. Ebony practiced her confident smirk she would show off to the crowd when it would be time. She hopped into her chariot, standing side by side with Bay.

The opening music swelled just moments afterward, and the District One horses took their cue. The team of four horses trotted out of the stables, presenting themselves on the Avenue of Tributes. Ebony could see Clarence and Jayda from her point of view, and she could see the crowd was loving them. They looked dangerous, put together and great, everything a Career tribute should look like.

Ebony's chariot moved slightly closer to the Avenue of Tributes. The District Two chariot was released seconds after District One went. Vulcan was dressed in a red suit with a brick-like pattern painted onto it. His feet were clad in black dress shoes, and his black hair was slicked back. Hestia was in a similar outfit, but hers was a thigh-length dress. Her hair was down, and her eyes were shaded with a smokey eyeshadow. Hestia's lips were painted bright red.

The crowd cheered in delight as the next District came out, and the District Three chariot took it's place in the parade. Ebony kept her eyes trained on the back of the technology-District girl's brown-haired head as they pulled out in front of her. Both tributes were wearing black outfits that, upon further inspection, were made out of wires. The girl - Eudora's - dress was knee length while the boy was wearing a tuxedo.

Ebony's team of four horses started pulling her chariot toward the crowd, and she assumed her position. She and Bay exchanged smiles for a brief second, before they were in view of the Capitol. They both wore smirks and stared straight ahead, their stares looking dangerously like death itself.

The Capitol cheered loudly and clapped. They got a standing ovation. Roses were thrown at the District Four duo.

And Ebony loved it.

* * *

 **Azuria Barslow**

 _ **Master of Ceremonies. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What if I back down now,**_

' _ **cause I'm afraid of what might happen,**_

 _ **What if they turn away,**_

 _ **when I show them who I truly am?"**_

* * *

Azuria found herself on her feet and clapping along with the rest of the Capitol as the first four Districts emerged from their positions at the bottom floor of the remake center. Sure, she _had_ doubted her homeland the past few days, but now she was caught up in the moment, cheering for each District. She couldn't believe that _23_ of these tributes would die, and only one would be victorious. Probably a Career would win - they always seemed to win.

District Five was coming into her view. She gasped in delight at what she saw Roy and Kinsie dressed in. Their outfits were _incredible._ Kinsie was in a floor-length dress, which was golden and had sparks shooting out of it. Roy was in the same outfit, only it was obviously not a dress. Kinsie's hair was twisted into a curly updo, and makeup was heavily piled onto her face. Mascara, blush, lipstick, eye shadow. Everything.

District Six was riding right behind them. Their chariot looked like a car, and both tributes (Zoe and Louis) were dressed in tight silver bodysuits. Zoe's hair was up in a tight bun. They looked fabulous.

Zoe was known for flashing that rude sign at her escort during the Reapings. She did this sign again now, and her District partner shied away from her, clearly not wanting to get involved in her antics. The Capitol went wild with excitement, and Azuria clearly saw her as a threat to other tributes.

Next up was the District Seven pair. Their costumes did not look very impressive - did they ever get a break from being trees? But both tributes looked very attractive, which could possibly get them escorts. Celine was a cute-looking redhead who gave a sweet smile to the crowds. Rowan looked a bit shy but he was smiling genuinely.

When District Eight was in view, the crowd, including Azuria, exploded. Cute, little, 13 year old Dylan was there, smiling and waving. Azalea was smiling, too, but rather halfheartedly. They were both dressed in long robes made of rather expensive fabric. Azalea and Dylan looked absolutely perfect in every way. Not a hair was out of place.

Azuria sat back in her seat with excitement coursing through her veins. She couldn't believe she was going to interview all these tributes before they went into the Games.

She might've doubted the Capitol before, but after this, she wasn't sure _what_ to think about them anymore.

* * *

 **Delia Montgomery**

 _ **District Twelve Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **But even if the stars and moon collide,**_

 _ **I never want you back into my life,**_

 _ **You can take your words and all your lies,**_

 _ **Oh oh oh I really don't care."**_

* * *

Delia noticed her District Partner was clutching the edge of the chariot rather tightly. His face was green - he looked like he was about to throw up.

"If you're about to throw up, so kindly do it over the side." Delia told him in a sarcastic tone, flapping her hand toward Lignite's side of the chariot.

He didn't respond. Hmph. Delia never liked sour people.

In fact, she was so concentrated on Lignite that she almost missed the viewing of the District Nine tributes. _Almost._

Rosemary and Casimir of the grain District were present in outfits made completely of grain. Rosie's outfit was was grain-made shirt and a matching skirt, with beige knee-length boots. Her hair was let loose, and her stylist had gone light with the makeup. She looked very natural.

Casimir, on the other hand, was wearing a shirt and pants, instead of a skirt. His outfit looked similar to Rosie's. His hair was slicked back with gel, and he looked nice.

District Ten's outfit differed from the cliche, cow or cowboy look. It looked more like a fantasy, storybook theme. Taurus's dark-toned face was sharpened with makeup, and his hair was teased to accommodate horns. A false nose was made with a faux septum, and his torso was lined to be more defined. He was dressed in black latex pants with various metal cuffs. He looked like...a minotaur.

Casey was in a similar look, and she managed to pull it off. As the rode off in the Avenue of Tributes, the crowd was chanting: "Taurus and Taurus! Taurus and Taurus!"

Delia scoffed and tossed her brown hair over her shoulder. "Come on, Lignite. We can do better than him."

District Eleven, the chariot in front of them, was pulling away and was soon exposed to the Capitol. They are wearing a dandelion-inspired outfit. Seeder's granddaughter, 16 year old Isobel Wild, was dressed in a golden floor-length gown that reached up to her ankles. A wreath of dandelions rest on her head, and on her wrist she had dandelion bracelets. Dandelions served as her anklets as well, and she wore golden high heels. Her eyes were shaded with golden, and she looked like a nature girl. Quince was wearing a crisp white button-down, and a golden cotton vest. The vest had a pocket, in which a dandelion corsage was displayed. His pants were a golden color, and his shoes were dark brown dress shoes. Quince and Isobel looked amazing.

Delia stopped breathing in the second the horses clomped forward. And then there Lignite and her were, out in the open of the Capitol.

She looked at Lignite and mouthed the words, _On three._

 _One, two, three._

They hit a button Cinna gave them, which he concealed in their fists. Immediately, fire lit up their black costumes, engulfing them in flames. Delia was afraid her dark hair would catch on fire, but the fire must've been fake because it didn't burn her.

She smiled and waved to the crowds, occasionally blowing kisses. Roses and other flowers of sorts showered down on the two. She glanced over at Lignite, and she saw he was holding up well. Lignite was doing a good enough job of smiling to the crowd. She could see, if she looked closely, that he was nervous but was not looking at the huge monitors or down at his outfit. It was all good.

She continued using these theatrics until their chariots looped around the City Circle. Their horse team stopped in their designated, assigned spot - right in front of President Snow's mansion. Delia let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding.

President Snow was much...larger, than he looked on TV. He also looked a bit sickly, and his eyes held a glimpse that he was a mad genius. But Delia gaped in wonder - yes, she _was_ going into the Games, but she was looking close-up at President Snow. And not through her TV this time.

He said a small, official welcome to the tributes before sending them back on their way. Delia continued to smile and wave right up until their fire was extinguished, as they got backstage. She walked delicately out of the chariot when the horses stopped moving. Effie Trinket came backstage to collect them. "My dears, you looked wonderful!" She gushed.

Lignite twitched uncomfortably. "I want to get this outfit off. Right now."

Effie, taken back, nodded. "Cinna will take care of that."

"But I want it off now." The 18 year old squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't understand - I _need_ to take it off. But of course you wouldn't understand. You Capitol people don't understand anything!" He was close to shouting now.

Delia lashed out and closed her hand around his wrist. "Don't talk about the Capitol that way." She said, a steely determination in her eyes. "Don't."

Lignite yanked his arm free from her grip. And with that, he turned and stormed off, seemingly disappearing into the crowd of tributes.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Lignite Parker: "** _ **Dream"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

 **Ebony Williams: "** _ **Yellow Flicker Beat"**_ **(sung by** _ **Lorde)**_

 **Azuria Barslow:** " _ **What If I Shine"**_ **(sung by** _ **Jordyn Kane)**_

 **Delia Montgomery: "** _ **Really Don't Care"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

* * *

 **Hey guys! Also, the District Twelve outfits are the ones from "Catching Fire", the ones that Katniss and Peeta wore for the Quarter Quell.**

 **What did you think of everyone's outfit? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I definitely enjoyed writing it. And there are some tribute interactions!  
** **Read and review! Thanks so much for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18 - Training Day One Part One

**Chapter 18 - Posted ( 4/2/16)**

* * *

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 _ **District Two Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being**_

 _ **confident."**_

* * *

Vulcan awoke sleepily, and stayed in bed for the longest time. The stress of impressing his father and Lynn must've carried into his sleep, because he had had a nightmare. He lay in his bed a bit longer, thinking about how the comforters and the pillows were so soft.

Moments later, and with a jolt, he sprang up to a sitting position on his bed. What time _was_ it?

He took a glance at the bedside table, scanning for that digital clock that told time. _No._ It was five minutes until training begun!

Rubbing his eyes with a renewed energy, Vulcan sprung out of bed and ran out of his room quickly. "Amelia? Hestia? Brutus? Enobaria? Hello!?"

Everyone had left without him? How dare they!

Upon further inspection in his bedroom, a pair of black training clothes were folded neatly on the foot of his bed. Vulcan changed quickly and threw on the sneakers that came with it. Skipping breakfast but grabbing an apple, he ran out the door and down a hallway. Vulcan located where the elevator was, and pressed a button for 'down'. Then he went inside, and immediately wanted to break apart the elevator in disgust. Now he had to see how this thing even _worked._

Against his own will, the doors began closing and the elevator went down. Vulcan held onto the railing for dear life; he had never been in an elevator before.

It opened at District One's floor (thank goodness; Vulcan was pretty sure either Clarence or Jayda knew how to operate an elevator) and the tributes piled in.

Jayda gave Vulcan a once-over, all the while having a narrowed-eyed stare. "Where's Hestia? Why are you panting like that?"

Vulcan admitted the truth. "They left without me. Got a problem with that?" He added.

Clarence and Jayda snorted. The former pressed a button, and the elevator started to go down again. When it opened, it opened to the Training Center. Most of the Districts were already there. When Clarence past Vulcan, he muttered under his breath, "Wimp."

The Districts were gathered in a circle around the head trainer, Atala. Atala was a muscular, athletic woman. Vulcan located Hestia quickly, who gave him a cool stare. "Finally snapped to your senses, did you?" She whispered to him.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Vulcan snapped back at her.

Atala was going over the rules of training, and was in the midst of explaining each station. She silenced the two Career tributes with a look, and continued. Finally, she sent them loose, and Hestia walked over to Clarence, Jayda, Ebony, and Bay. Vulcan followed her, though well aware the Careers would probably not accept him at first glance.

Ebony looked at him up and down. "What's _he_ doing here?" She asked Clarence coldly. Clearly she did not want a Reaped Career in the Pack, either.

Clarence disregarded the question. "He'll have to prove himself." He fixed Vulcan with an intimidating look. "Go."

Vulcan smirked at them and walked over to the axe station, the others watching his every move. He picked up a tomahawk, and weighed it in his hand, testing if it was good or not. It was exactly like the one he had at home. Vulcan narrowed his eyes at the target and aimed. With one mighty throw, the tomahawk hit the bull's eye.

Clarence raised his eyebrow at him as he walked back. Jayda whispered to Clarence, "He proved himself - bam. He's in."

"Fine." The leader of the pack huffed. "You're in."

Vulcan smirked once more.

Bay took over. "How about we split up and go to some stations we're good at. We'll meet again at lunch."

Everyone agreed, and that agreement sealed the Career Pack. As Vulcan was about to walk back to the tomahawk station, Clarence grabbed his arm and held on tightly. "But if there's any 'funny business', I'll personally be the one to kill you."

* * *

 **Louis Lindbergh**

 _ **District Six Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I believe I can fly,**_

 _ **I believe I can touch the sky,**_

 _ **I think about it every night and day,**_

 _ **Spread my wings and fly away."**_

* * *

Louis equipped the throwing knife and twirled it in between his fingers. The trainer had taught him the proper stance, and he moved into that position now. He squinted one eye shut and _threw._

It was way off. It _did_ hit the target, but just barely. He handed the throwing knife back to the trainer apologetically. "I'm sorry. I don't think this is the best weapon for me."

The trained nodded in understanding. "There are many other stations you can try. Go explore."  
"Thanks!"  
Louis departed the disastrous station in hopes of finding a better weapon for himself. His eyes landed on the poison station. Like a magnetic force was pulling him, he began to walk toward it. When he arrived, he asked the trainer if he could try.

"Of course." The poison trainer said. He must not get any people wanting to try her station. Many minutes later, Louis' brain was racing with the knowledge of what to mix with what, and which poisons do what.

"You can even put poison on your weapon, such as a sword or knife." The trainer suggested. "In the arena, just give your opponent a clean cut through, and in addition to being injured they'll also be poisoned."

Louis nodded. Now he had to find a backup weapon.

"Thanks again. I'll be back later." He told the older man.

"No problem!"

Louis wandered away from that station and looked around at the other tributes wordlessly. He didn't want to go anywhere where the Careers were, which ruled out the sword station, the tomahawk/axes station, the machete station, the spear station, and the flail station. He chose to go to the javelin station, to see if that would be any better than the knives.

Needless to say, he failed at that, too; and if there were any lessons he learned that day, it would definitely be: " _Stay away from weapons that you throw."_

* * *

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 _ **District Three Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I just wanna make you proud,**_

 _ **I'm never gonna be good enough for you,**_

 _ **I can't stand another fight,**_

 _ **and nothing's alright."**_

* * *

Dora chucked the sword at a dummy, and it impaled itself in the dummy's stomach. She giggled at that.

The trainer gave her an exasperated look. "How many times do I have to say it?! Don't throw the sword!"

Clarence, who was nearby, smirked at the poor District Three teen as she got a scolding. "Someone's in _trouble."_ He mocked Dora.

"And I thought District Three was supposed to be smart." The trained rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"Well, maybe everyone's different." Retorted Eudora, her smile fading. "I don't think the sword is right for me - sorry about that." She dropped the sword on the ground and walked away from the mean trainer and Clarence. Maybe a survival station would be better than a weapon station. Dora came over to the plant-identifying station.

The trainer there was busy with another tribute, District Seven's Celine Woodman. Celine found each plant easily, a smile on her face as she passed each test. After the redhead was done, it was Dora's turn.

"Hi, I'm Lila." Said the trainer. "Ready to start?"

Dora was brightened by the niceness of Lila. "Yep!"

Lila explained about each plant and their purpose. She told Eudora which ones were poisonous and which ones were good to eat. But when it was time for Dora to match the plants, she couldn't do it.

The trainer was patient and tried to help, but Dora was hopeless in every way.

Dora walked off from the station when she took her cue that it was time to go. She saw the fire-making station and ran to it quickly - and she bumped into the District Six girl, Zoe Mercedes, who was walking across the Training Center to the knife station.

"Hey! Watch it." Zoe jumped out of the way, sending Dora sprawling across the floor.

Dora wanted to cry. Nothing was going right for her. She wasn't good at anything.

A voice next to her - Huxley's voice - talked to her. "Come on, Dora. Get up. It's okay."

Dora looked up weakly and saw her District partner.

Huxley pleaded with her. "Come on. The others will think you're weak. I'll be your ally if you get up." He added.

At that, Dora brightened. "Sure!"

She had just made a new ally - _and_ a new friend.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Vulcan Hardy: "** _ **Confident"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

 **Louis Lindbergh:** " _ **I Believe I Can Fly"**_ **(sung by** _ **R. Kelly)**_

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh: "** _ **Perfect"**_ **(sung by** _ **Simple Plan)**_

* * *

 **Hi again! So sorry if Vulcan's section was a little choppy. When I was writing it, it wasn't flowing at all. Sorry again.**

 **So, what did you think? After this will be Day One Lunch, and after** _ **that**_ **will be Day One Training Part Two. Hopefully you enjoyed this. Sorry if my writing quality went a bit down in this chapter. It was unexpectedly hard to write.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Alliances (so far) -**

 **Careers: Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams**

 **Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman**

 **Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**


	19. Chapter 19 - Training Day One Lunch

**Chapter 19 - Posted ( 4/3/16)**

* * *

 **Dylan Tweed**

 _ **District Eight Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,**_

 _ **Become so tired, so much more aware,**_

 _ **I'm becoming this, all I want to do,**_

 _ **Is be more like me and be less like you."**_

* * *

Dylan's plate was piled with food of every kind - fruit, sandwiches, macaroni, pasta. Done with getting his food, he turned - and immediately felt lost. He was slightly familiar with this feeling, when kids used to tease him at school. But in a room of 23 other tributes who were mostly older, colder, stronger, and snarkier than he was...where would he sit?

To his left was an empty table. He didn't want to sit alone. To his right was a mostly empty table, but with the District Nine tributes sitting there. Dylan remembered watching the District Nine Reapings on the train - the sixteen year old female tribute, Rosemary Fields, seemed nice enough. The boy seemed fairly nice, too. Dylan should not judge a book by it's cover, but he was pretty sure they would make good company for the lunch break. Besides - he was one of the first people to get his lunch. Everyone else was not seated yet. The other group who was already seating were the Careers - Clarence, Jayda, Vulcan, Hestia, Bay and Ebony. And no, Dylan most definitely did not want to join them.

Clutching his plate tightly with both hands, Dylan set his jaw and maneuvered his way over to Rosemary and Casimir's table. They both looked up when they saw him coming, and the girl offered him a smile. "Hi." She said brightly.

Dylan smiled, shyly, back. "Hi. Mind if I sit with you?"

"No problem." They both answered at the same time. Dylan sat at the table and started eating.

Rosemary broke the silence. "Did you know what we were actually going to invite you to an alliance?"

" _Really?"_ Dylan was shocked. He had never felt so important to someone before.

"We were going to ask you in the Training Center but we'll just ask you now." Casimir continued. "Will you join our alliance?"

Dylan stared at the two tributes in shock. _They actually want me in an alliance,_ was his first thought. His second thought was: _They don't know the truth about me. It's one more thing I have to hide from them._

The 16 year old and 15 year old waited, with anxious smiles on their faces, for his response.

"I-I think I'll accept."

Rosemary and Casimir relaxed in relief. "Thank you." Rosemary told him. "And I think some introductions are in order.

"My name's Rosemary Fields. I'm 16 years old and from District Nine. You can call me 'Rosie'. I specialize in herbs and healing."

Dylan nodded, his brain overflowing with the joy and happiness of having two trustworthy people by his side in the arena.

"And I'm Casimir Moretti. Fifteen years old, and I can use a sickle." Casimir offered.

Upon further inspection, Dylan realized that in the District Nine Reapings, Casimir's sister got shot. The memory floated back to him. Dylan's mouth opened slightly at Casimir.

Casimir seemed to sense what Dylan was thinking. "You don't have to say anything. I know." He turned to his food and starting eating. Changing the subject, he added, "Do you want anyone else in the alliance?"

By now, most of the other tributes were seated at the tables left. Eudora and Huxley from District Three were eating at a table together. Kinsie Surge and Roy Lentz were eating together, but they did not seem to be in an alliance. Louis Lindbergh had joined a table with Taurus Whittaker, but it was because the lack of tables left. They did not seem to be enjoying themselves, and they were rather wearily eating and exchanging stiff smiles.

No one seemed to want to come near Zoe Mercedes. She was eating by herself. Celine Woodman and Rowan Mattock were eating together, and we're talking, having a great time. Azalea, Dylan's own District partner, was rather forcedly sitting with Lignite Parker and Quince Lazarre. Isobel Wild was eating by herself, and Delia Montgomery was doing the same.

"I don't know. Nobody really seems trustworthy." Dylan confided in them. Then the tap came on his shoulder.

"May I eat here?" Rosie, Casimir, and Dylan looked at the person requesting to sit with them: Casey Taurus, District Ten. "All the other places are full." Casey flapped a hand to indicate the other tables. She didn't add that this was the only table that seemed trustworthy.

Rosie and Casimir nodded, and then immediately put their heads together to discuss as Casey sat down. Dylan was close enough to hear what they were saying, but he also wanted to talk to Casey and get to know her. His two options were to listen in on his new allies' conversation or make friends with Casey. He chose the latter.

"I'm Dylan Tweed." He said to her. "I'm 13 years old."

"Hey, Dylan." Casey said brightly. "I'm Casey Taurus. I'm 18 years old and I came from District Ten."

Dylan liked Casey already. He maybe even wanted her in the alliance. But did Rosie and Casimir like her?

* * *

 **Casey Taurus**

 _ **District Ten Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **This tug of war can't go on anymore,**_

 _ **Nobody wins from this misery,  
Free, well oh can't you see,  
I wanna be, I want you to be, free."**_

* * *

Casey smiled back at Dylan. He was a cute kid, and he looked like he was 11 years old, even though he was 13. She turned to her plate and picked up some bread, weighing it in her hand, before taking a bite out of it.

She wanted an alliance in the arena. She wanted a trustworthy one that wouldn't stab her in the back in the middle of the night. She _needed_ one, to survive. Casey had not much to live for, back in District Ten, but if she could go home she would like to. Casey wanted to live in Victor's Village, away from her father and mother. Maybe she could even invite Natalie's family to live with her. Natalie's family was like a second family to Casey Taurus.

Rosie and Casimir had not stopped whispering the second she sat down. She knew she shouldn't be suspicious of them, but she was a little.

"Casey." Casimir's voice snapped her back to reality. "We have an important question to ask you."

She tilted her side slightly to the left. "Okay…?"

Rosie finished Casimir's sentence. "We would like you in our alliance, if you don't mind. I was kinda watching you with a knife at Training, and you seem pretty good, not to mention friendly. So will you join Casimir, Dylan, and I?"

Casey went silent, her face rigid with shock. When her vocal chords would work, she said, "Wow, yes! Of course I would join."

Everyone smiled at each other. A new ally was made.

"So what are you guys good at?" Casimir asked Casey and Dylan between bites of his meal.

Casey shrugged. "I'm good with a dagger. I can also tame animals."

Everyone shared a sideways look at her. "What do you mean?" Dylan questioned.

"I don't really want to explain." Casey fidgeted in her chair, clearly uncomfortable. Needless to say, the others left the subject alone.

"I guess I'm good at throwing knives, along with a dagger." Dylan said reluctantly. He didn't mention that he was also horrible at it.

"That's good. I-" Rosie began, but was cut off by a sudden squealing noise.

* * *

 **Zoe Mercedes**

 _ **District Six Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Hey baby there ain't no easy way out  
Hey I will stand my ground  
And I won't back down  
No, I won't back down."**_

* * *

So there Zoe was, sitting alone at her own lunch table and piling food into her mouth like a truck driver. So when she saw the boy from District Ten covering his ears with his hands and crying, rocking back and forth, of course she had to say something.

Louis, who had been sitting with Taurus, jumped away from the table like a scalded cat and rushed away, embarrassed to be sitting with the guy at all. He zipped to Zoe's table, much to her dismay. "You have to do something!" He hissed in her ear.

But Louis was very, very wrong asking _Zoe,_ of all people, to do _something._

Zoe got up from her table and strolled over to Taurus, all eyes in the cafeteria turned on her. She squatted down by him. "Are you insane, or are you insane?" She asked, earning a laugh at the 17 year old's expense from the Careers. "Do you need your mother? Oh, wait - you don't have one!"

The Careers started laughing again, the loudest of them all being the District One Male. Zoe had overheard the District Ten mentors talking about Taurus' past, and with her stealth skills, they didn't notice her. All the while, Taurus continued rocking back and forth.

She looked up and saw Casey, Taurus' District Partner. Casey was seated at a table with three other people, and on her face it showed she was conflicted between helping Taurus (and getting ridiculed by Zoe) or not getting involved (and not getting picked on). Casey apparently chose the latter, and didn't want to get involved.

Peacekeepers started coming forward to Zoe and picked her up easily. She tried to wiggle out of their grip as she was dragged from the lunch room.

"You're a freak!" She called to Taurus as she departed the room.

And another lesson learned by Louis: " _Never ask Zoe to do something."_

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Dylan Tweed:** " _ **Numb"**_ **(sung by** _ **Linkin Park)**_

 **Casey Taurus: "** _ **Free"**_ **(sung by** _ **Haley Reinhart)**_

 **Zoe Mercedes: "** _ **I Won't Back Down"**_ **(sung by** _ **Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers)**_

* * *

 **Hi! I have a question. Does anybody know how to do the "single line break" thing? If so, can you state how to do it in your reviews?**

 **How did you like lunch? I hope you enjoyed it! I know I made Zoe kind of mean, but it was the only way to express how mean she really was. And to clarify, Taurus** _ **did**_ **have one of his episodes. Also, Rosie and Casimir were just discussing whether or not they should invite Casey to their alliance. They were just kind of suspicious of her at first. Next chapter is the second part of Training Day One.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Alliances (so far) -**

 **Careers: Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams**

 **Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman**

 **Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 **Alliance #3: Rosemary "Rosie" Fields, Casimir Moretti, Casey Taurus, Dylan Tweed**


	20. Chapter 20 - Training Day One Part Two

**Chapter 20 - Posted on ( 4/5/16)**

* * *

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 _ **District Two Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Two feet below the surface**_

 _ **I can still make out your wavy face,  
and if I could just reach you **_

_**maybe I could leave this place."**_

* * *

Hestia swung her machete at the dummy, successfully slicing it up into pieces. After lunch she felt very energized, and she felt like she could take on the world. With another swing at a different dummy, it's head rolled off it's body.

She smiled at her win. _Another point for me. The others will definitely have to fear Hestia Gabbro in the arena._

"Hestia." A female voice sounded next to her - Ebony Williams.

"Ebony - hi." Hestia said, rather distractedly. "What do you need?" She expertly twirled her machete around.

The blonde spoke again. "Clarence wants to invite Zoe Mercedes and Isobel Wild to the Career alliance. Want to come with me to ask them?"

"Sure." Hestia responded, dropping the machete on the ground next to all the ruined dummies.

The two girls quickly located Zoe Mercedes first. Zoe was at the knife station, engaged in a combat battle with the trainer. Zoe was definitely getting the upperhand, even though the trainer was more skilled than her. She dodged and sliced, eventually catching the trainer at his throat.

"That was...impressive." Ebony cooed to Zoe, after the brown haired girl let the next person in line train with the trainer. "Impressive for even, let's say…the Careers."

The thief looked up and down at the two Careers warily. "What are you getting at?"

Hestia jumped in. "We want you in our alliance. If you don't accept…" She made a _tsk, tsk_ sound. "You know what will happen."

Zoe started laughing sarcastically. "Is this some kind of joke? Of course I won't join you. I work better alone."

Ebony and Hestia just looked at the girl in annoyance. They knew Clarence would target her if she didn't accept. "Suit yourself. Just know you'll die." Ebony sneered.

Zoe snickered again. "I'm not scared of you."

Hestia dragged Ebony away before things got dirty. She did not want to go against the Capitol rules by getting physical with another tribute. Once she was out of Zoe's earshot, she muttered to her ally, "One down, one to go. Let's help Isobel says yes; Clarence won't take another no for an answer, now will he."

Isobel Wild was at the next station down, the throwing knives station. Each throw she made was precise and almost all of them were bull's eyes. Perfect. She was another trained one.

Hestia whispered to Ebony, "I'll take this one." They sauntered up to Isobel before the District Eleven girl could throw another knife.

"Hi, my name's Hestia Gabbro from District Two. Here with me is Ebony Williams from District Four. We've been...keeping tabs on you. Your skill with throwing knives is impressing - very impressing. So we have a very important offer to make you.

"Will you join the Careers?"

Hestia took a deep breath in and released it. She had said it all in one breath.

Isobel now looked a little shocked. She looked from Hestia to Ebony and back to Hestia again, possibly wondering if this was a joke or not. _Word must've got out that I'm Seeder's granddaughter._ She thought.

The duo of Career girls looked at her with hopeful expressions on their faces, mostly for the sake that Clarence would probably kill Isobel along with Zoe at the bloodbath if they both didn't agree to the alliance terms.

Isobel was tempted to say yes. So, so tempted to say yes. But there were _pros_ and _cons_ of join the Career alliance.

The good things about it were that the Careers offered protection, and plenty of supplies. They could get her farther in the Games, make most of the kills. Maybe she could have a shot at winning. With the Careers, she could get far, and maybe Isobel could stealth-kill them from behind when they weren't aware.

The _con_ was that the Careers were cold-blooded, ruthless, mindless killers. Maybe they could even betray her in the middle of the night. They simply could not be trusted.

The 16 year old District Eleven teen visualized the chart in her mind. Once she sorted out the _pros_ and _cons,_ it was clear that there were way more upsides to the Careers than downsides. Hestia watched patiently, Ebony rather impatiently, as Isobel opened her mouth to say _yes._

But at the split second before finalizing the alliance, Isobel happened to glance over at the sword station. Clarence Reiss was rumored to be the Pack leader. He was there now, slicing dummies down with each flick of his wrist. What everyone said was true. He was dangerous - and Isobel couldn't bring herself to trust him.

More _pros_ than _cons_ or not, she just couldn't say yes.

Hestia and Ebony were already bathing in their victory of getting Isobel into the Pack. But they had thought too soon. Isobel's next words shocked them into cold reality.

"I'm sorry, but no…"

* * *

 **Bay Riverside**

 _ **District Four Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Today I don't feel like doing anything,**_

 _ **I just wanna lay in my bed,**_

 _ **Don't feel like picking up my phone,**_

 _ **So leave a message at the tone."**_

* * *

Bay had just thrown another spear at the target. It flown in a perfect arc before hitting the center - the bull's eye. He smiled, pleased at his accomplishment. But his joyful was was immediately shattered by a scream. And the voice who was screaming sounded vaguely familiar.

Clarence Reiss was not one to scream. Did he get hurt? Did he push himself too hard at the sword station? _What had happened?_

But upon further listening, Bay noted that the scream was not one of agony. It was a scream of frustration, anger, and annoyance. The District Four Male quickly put his spear back on the rack and crossed the room in a few strides, coming to his ally's aid.

Hestia, the District Two Female, and Ebony, his own District partner, were trying to calm him down with no such luck. Clarence was shouting now.

"They didn't accept! I'm going to kill them!" He boomed, loud enough to be heard way across the Training Center. Other tributes stopped and stared at the sight: Clarence Reiss, the Career Pack leader, having an angry outburst.

Isobel Wild, one of the girls Clarence had tried asking to join the alliance, looked guiltily across the room at the sight. Bay offered her a tentative smile before turning back to his leader.

"Clarence, it's not the end of the world, you know. Just...be quiet, okay? Everyone can hear you." Bay advised him.

Clarence looked like he wanted to slam his sword into Zoe and Isobel's gut. But he restrained himself, for the sake of staying in control. "I'll kill them first thing, you hear me?" He muttered, giving his sword to the trainer and brushing past his allies.

Ebony pointed out, "Uh, should we go after him?"

Everyone shook their heads. He would calm down on his own.

Everything returned slightly to normal after that - as close as you could get from it. Hestia decided to try to scale the rock climbing wall, and Ebony wanted to learn skills with the javelin. That left Bay all alone. He decided to learn how to set a fire. _Should be useful in the arena, and in District Four we never really needed to know how to start one. I'll go there now,_ He thought to himself.

Bay made his way over there, where the trainer was happy to get more people who wanted to learn. "Hello! Ready to learn?"

He nodded to the older woman and began his training. Needless to say, it was _hard._ At first, all he was given was flint and he was expected to make some kind of fire out of it. But by striking them together, he soon got somewhat of a fire behind him.

A voice behind him made him turn away. "Hey."

It was Isobel Wild, the District Eleven girl. The one who had turned down the Career's request. Yet he still didn't hold anything against her.

"Hi." Bay replied. Then he asked something he wanted to know: "Uh, why did you turn down the Careers?"

She fidgeted, then looked around as if to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Then she leaned in closer to him. "I don't think I can trust Clarence. Sorry."

"No, it's fine! I don't -" Bay immediately stopped himself. He was about to say: _I don't think I can trust Clarence, either._ What was he thinking?

But Isobel just looked into his eyes and knew what he meant. She nodded in understanding.

For the the rest of the Training Day, the two of them sat side by side in silence, learning how to make fires. Though they sat in silence, it wasn't awkward silence.

It was comfortable silence.

* * *

 **Taurus Whittaker**

 _ **District Ten Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Baby you understand me now,**_

 _ **If sometimes you see I'm mad,**_

 _ **Don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel?**_

 _ **When everything goes wrong you see some bad."**_

* * *

Taurus was at the rope-tying station with a few other tributes. Honestly, he couldn't care less about this skill, but he knew it might be useful in the arena. Useful or not, he actually wasn't paying attention to the trainer. He was looking around at the rest of the Training Center, observing what competition he was up against.

The station next to him was the gauntlet station. Roy Lentz of District Five was currently there, running and jumping and dodging the obstacles. Whoa, was he _stealthy._ And _fast._ He'd definitely be one to look out for.

On the other station that was next to him, was the plant-identifying one. No one was there except the District Nine Male, Casimir Moretti.

Some more stations that were nearby were the rock climbing station, the trap/snares station, the bow and arrow station, and the crossbow station. Taurus could already rule out the rock climbing station, for Hestia from the Careers was there and he really didn't want to go near the Careers. As for the traps/snares station, Taurus had no hope for inventing or constructing things. In the bow and arrow station, there were a lot of people, including Rosemary Fields, Jayda Newell, Delia Montgomery, and Celine Woodman. They were mostly people trying the bow and arrow out, besides Jayda. But since _another_ Career was there, he didn't want to go to that station, either. The crossbow station was totally deserted except for the trainer. Though he didn't want to get teased, he didn't want to be alone with the trainer. That would be even more awkward.

So Taurus hoped for the best and decided to go to a random station, which also happened to be the mace station. _Might as well try to do something productive with my training. Or who knows what might happen in the arena._

Luckily, no Careers or anyone was there except Lignite Parker of District Twelve, who mostly ignored him the whole session. Taurus was still fuming from the Careers laughing at him. He couldn't control when his moods changed! And they thought it was a problem?!

Taurus sighed and decided to stick with learned the skills of a mace. The trainer was very helpful, pointing out what he was doing wrong in a kind way rather than in a mean way. She taught him the proper stance and how to defend or attack.

Taurus was finally getting the hang of something - and it wasn't rope-tying.

* * *

 **Quince Lazarre**

 _ **District Eleven Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **As a child you would wait,**_

 _ **And watch from far away.**_

 _ **But you always knew that you'd be the one,**_

 _ **That work while they all play."**_

* * *

Quince had to use the restroom. It was after lunch, so of course he did.

He asked for directions from a nearby trainer, and went where he was told. It was surprisingly easy to find. They were clean and spotless. The floor tiles were alternating black and white. It was the cleanest restroom he had ever been in.

He was about to go into a stall when several screaming noises came from the outside. It was all Quince could do to stare in horror at the boy who came in.

The boy was the District Eight boy - Dylan Tweed. He looked absolutely fine when you first saw him, but then you looked into his eyes. His eyes were eyes of a madman's. It was like-like what happened to Taurus at lunch!

Dylan didn't seem to notice Quince was there. The 13 year old was just screaming and releasing his anger out on the mirror, slamming his fists into it again and again. The 18 year old knew what if he inferred, something bad might happen to him. So he kept his mouth shut and didn't do anything but stare in horror.

Dylan had cracked the mirror now and was screaming incomprehensible words by now. Quince wanted to comfort him, or do _something_ , but he knew he shouldn't. _Don't interfere. Don't interfere. Don't interfere…_

A few minutes - disturbing minutes - later, Dylan stood up and calmly walked out of the bathroom. It was just like nothing happened.

Then Quince realized something. _It was like what happened to Taurus at lunch._ Could Dylan possibly have mood swings?

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Hestia Gabbro:** " _ **I Do Not Want This"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nine Inch Nails)**_

 **Bay Riverside: "** _ **The Lazy Song"**_ **(sung by** _ **Bruno Mars)**_

 **Taurus Whittaker: "** _ **Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" (**_ **sung by** _ **Nina Simone)**_

 **Quince Lazarre: "** _ **Warriors"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

* * *

 **I posted the last chapter during the 24 hour time limit by accident, so it didn't go to the top of the archive. Sorry about that!**

 **And to make it clearer, Dylan had one of his episodes and Quince secretly learned the truth about him.**

 **We're getting closer to the Games! Also, during Training for Days 2 and 3 I don't think I'll write the lunch chapters. I'll just mash everything all together for those chapters.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Alliances (so far) -**

 **Careers: Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams**

 **Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman**

 **Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 **Alliance #3: Rosemary "Rosie" Fields, Casimir Moretti, Casey Taurus, Dylan Tweed**


	21. Chapter 21 - Training Day Two

**Chapter 21 - Posted ( 4/6/16)**

* * *

 **Rowan Mattock**

 _ **District Seven Male. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Wanted something I can't take,**_

 _ **I'll be stronger once again,  
Don't worry about me, trust me,**_

 _ **Please trust me now."**_

* * *

Rowan shrugged apologetically at the trainer, handing him back the sword he was trying to use. So much for that.

It was the second day of training, and he still hadn't found something he particularly excelled at. Even an axe, the weapon he'd used for years, was still hard to control in his state. All Rowan could do was stick with a knife and hope for the best. 30 minutes into Training and he had already failed at trying another weapon.

"Rowan! Hey, Rowan!" A voice called from behind him. Interested in who it was, he adjusted his position to face the person next to him. It was - thankfully - his ally, Celine Woodman. The redhead's face was already flushed from probably training more with the axe and running all the way across the Training Room to reach him.

Rowan smiled easily at the 14 year old. "Hey, Celine." He greeted her. They were, of course, from the same District and had saw each other that morning. But that didn't stop them from saying hi again. They had a special bond - it was almost like they were brothers and sisters already, even though they had only known each other for a handful of days. "Want to go try out the trap station?"

Celine stuck out her bottom lip in a mock pout. She was definitely a cutie - still like a little kid but a bit more grown up than that. Rowan wanted to help her win in some way, and protect her at any cost. "Why can't we just stick to something else?"

"We have to learn a little of everything." Rowan answered. "You never know what you might need to know in the arena."

After a few more protests, Celine finally agreed to the terms. The two of them walked to the next station down, which was the traps/snares station. Staring at all the ropes, sticks, bolts, wires, and bric-a-brac, the two District Seven tributes had never felt so lost in their lives. Celine tugged on Rowan's arm to get him to move, and the two of them began to creep away from the station. Unfortunately, those cliched actions never work. The expert there spotted them and waved them over.

Nowhere to run, they decided to just deal with it - and waste their time - at the station. The expert introduced himself and taught them the basics of traps and snares.

Celine and Rowan quickly discovered that it wasn't as hard, or quite as a waste of time, as they had thought previously. Though the former hated the prospect first, she swiftly learned that she developed a talent for the tricky skills.

They both learned everything - basics _and_ advanced skills. From the trap that left their victim hanging from a foot and one that would trigger something, the duo learned it all. When they had eventually just about mastered everything, Rowan glanced up at the clock and decided it was time to leave.

"Thanks!" Celine called to the expert there. He gave a friendly smile and a wave - not all Capitol people were _that_ bad, after all.

Rowan and Celine were now at another loss for where to go next. The older of the two glanced around furtively, before spotting the fire-starting station nearby. "Come on, let's go there."

Celine pretended to groan. But on the inside, she was smiling wide.

* * *

 **Kinsie Surge**

 _ **District Five Female. 12 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad,**_

 _ **The craziest friend that you've ever had,**_

 _ **You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone,**_

 _ **Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong."**_

* * *

Kinsie dipped her paintbrush into the cup of water. She got another color of paint - this time a light brown - and painted her left arm. Each brush stroke was precise and neat, delicate as a rose. The 12 year old was painting the bark of a tree on her arm, and was succeeding greatly. It looked like the real thing.

Kinsie had always enjoyed art. It was just...her thing she was good at. It was a secret talent, and she stopped doing it in front of people when her father had told her it was a waste. His words exactly: " _Who wants to waste their time staring at a blob of paint when they can get off their rears and help pay off this house?"_

She was only 7 years old when her father told her that. After that, Kinsie was absolutely mortified to express her talent to anyone else. She crumpled up her artwork - the one her father had called " _a blob of paint"_ \- and threw it out. Her art wasn't wanted anywhere.

The brown-haired girl hadn't drawn, painted, colored, or sketched in years. Her art was still a little shaky, but it was looking great, according to the trainer at the painting station (whose name Kinsie learned was "Magenta").

A gasp from next to Kinsie made her look up quickly. Standing beside her was Casey Taurus from District Ten, along with Rosemary Fields, Casimir Moretti, and Dylan Tweed from Districts Nine and Eight respectively. She had heard they had formed an alliance in the cafeteria. She knew because she was at a table near them. Kinsie narrowed her eyes at them. "Do you need anything?"

Casey covered her mouth. "I'm sorry! It just looks so realistic, I guess. It's better than I would have ever done." The Asian teen smiled a bit nervously at Kinsie.

Kinsie opened her mouth to say _No, I'm sure your artwork looks good, too,_ before halting herself. She was about to admit weakness. She couldn't do that.

Rosemary, Casimir, Dylan, and Casey went to Magenta and consulted with her. Soon, all four of them were painting along with Kinsie. Casey was occasionally looking at Kinsie's artwork, and looked a bit more inspired each time.

The District Five girl thought, _What's to admire about my work? It's just some bark. Casey's looks good, too._ Then she had another thought. _My mentor was talking about getting sponsors. Maybe if I join their alliance, if they would accept me...I'd betray them by killing them in the middle of the night, and I can get some kills! Kills means sponsors, and after that, maybe I can win!_

Kinsie gathered the nerve and turned to them. "This is to whoever's in charge. Can I… _may_ I possibly join your alliance?"

The potential alliance turned awkwardly silent, everyone looking at Rosemary. Just like Clarence was the "authority" of his alliance that everyone looked up to, they somehow looked up to Rosie. Rosie thought it over. She thought it over so long, that Kinsie was thinking, _If she says no, then I'll just go ask to join another alliance. No big deal._

Rosie then laid out the verdict, which was good news to the 12 year old. "Well...sure, if you want to. Welcome to the alliance!"

Boy, if only Rosie knew what she had got herself, and her alliance, into.

* * *

 **Casimir Moretti**

 _ **District Nine Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Accustomed to the cataclysmic madness,**_

 _ **My daily life I mistake for peace,**_

 _ **As this rambling coaster jolts me back and forth,**_

 _ **What is it that I mustn't lose sight of?"**_

* * *

Casimir didn't absolutely trust Kinsie with his whole heart. He knew that there was something off about her, something he couldn't put his finger on. He didn't put two-and-two together quite yet. But there _was_ something he couldn't deny.

But if he told Rosie, she'd probably just deny him. His District Partner had a bad habit of seeing the best in everyone. It wasn't necessarily bad sometimes, but seriously, she had to open her eyes and see the bigger picture. For example, at the moment she was probably thinking the strengths about Kinsie: _She's young, so she won't do much harm. She seems sweet. She has a lot of spunk, and that can help us get farther in the arena and possibly get supplies._ But the _cons_ about Kinsie? _She's young, so she can possibly deceive or manipulate us because we'll trust her. She has spunk in a_ bad _way, which means that she can outlive us and probably betray us. She seems like a good liar, and she is stealthy. Kinsie is fire-y and dangerous; she can't be trusted._ No doubt Rosie wasn't taking that into consideration, though.

Casimir noticed Dylan and Kinsie were having a discussion about their Districts back home, and decided to tune in.

"My mother and father are divorced," Kinsie was saying. "Now my dad lives on the other side of the District while I live with my mom. I have no siblings - well, I _used_ to have a brother, but I don't really remember him. His name was Connor Surge - he was actually a tribute in one of the Games."

Dylan nodded. Casimir didn't even think Dylan was paying attention to painting anymore. "And you're a tribute now." The 13 year old confirmed.

Kinsie bobbed her head up and down, saying _yes._ "Exactly. So what's your story?"

Dylan shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I was adopted and…" He hesitated, and Casimir immediately knew that the younger boy was hiding something. "Well, that's pretty much it."

Casey jumped in. "I can kind of relate to you, Kinsie - my dad wasn't always there for me, either. But neither was my mom. They were both mean to me."

Rosie looked sympathetic to the other girl. "Well, if it helps to know, my family was poor. But at least I got to do something I loved, because I got to go to herbal school."

Casimir really didn't want to talk about his past, but he felt like he had to open up to his alliance. "Well, there's not much to tell for me, either." He said quietly. "My family was poor, too, and I had to work since I was really young. And my sister...Tessa...she…" He couldn't finish his sentence. Casimir knew if he talked more, he would start crying. Tears were already threatening to spill. He turned away.

Rosie put her hand on his shoulder and opened her mouth, probably to say something motivating, but Casimir brushed it off. "Really, I'm fine." He blinked back the tears.

And Casimir hated Kinsie even more for the fact that they had both lost someone important to them - in this case, their siblings.

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

Azalea was feeling a bit bright today, even though she _was_ going into the Games in a few days. The 16 year old had bet she would die at the bloodbath the moment she was Reaped, but with the Training days, she might stand a chance against some other tributes. She was at the knife station with a few others, learning the skills of the stiletto weapon, along with a shield. It was easy to control and use, and plus, it was lightweight and easy to carry. Azalea was close to mastering the stiletto and was in line to spar with the trainer. Currently sparring with the trainer was Roy from District Five. He was coordinated with the weapon, and he was very skilled at using it. A fine competition he would make - he'd probably even kill Azalea, anyway, if he kept up the great work.

When it was finally her turn, she stepped up to the designated area she was assigned to spar with the trainer. The trainer was a muscular and thickly-built man, who seemed strong. Azalea gulped. She was most definitely going to lose - after all, luck never really seemed to be on her side.

When they started to strike, she noticed that yes, he may he strong and big, but he was slow. Very slow, in fact. He was also going on defense more than offense. She could use these weaknesses to her advantage!

Azalea feinted, using an illusion to confuse him. Then she followed up with some strikes to the trainer's own knife, making him drop his sword. And finally, she held her stiletto at his throat.

She was panting and breathing heavily. Many of the tributes were looking curiously at her. Azalea herself was thinking: _Whoa. Did I actually just do that?_

An unfamiliar feeling filled her body - pride. She had actually done it. She had did the impossible - at least, in her perspective it seemed impossible.

The trainer even seemed impressed. "Well, let's try that again with your shield this time." He prodded gently. She was nervous to do it again, but only a little bit. Azalea was mostly confident.

She picked up her shield, which she had discarded on the ground before the fight, and assumed her stance. Then she and the trainer began to battle it out once more.

Slash, block, dodge, strike. Slash, block, dodge, strike. It was getting repetitive, like a pattern. The trainer was now going a bit harder on her, and Azalea realized that he was just going easy on her before. Now it was the real thing.

He was still on the slow side, though. She went on offense, slashing and trying to lower his defense. It didn't work. Sooner or later she would tire, and let her guard down. She couldn't allow that to happen.

The brown-haired female tried a new tactic. She dipped down low and spin beneath the trainer, popping up behind him. Then she dropped her shield on the ground so she could grab him in a chokehold. Azalea did this successfully, and once again held the knife up to his throat.

The room had gone silent. Everyone was watching her, studying her. They might've even been thinking that _she_ was competiton. No, impossible. She was just...well, _Azalea._

The teen decided to take a break, and stepped away from the trainer, going to drink some water from the fountain. Halfway there, someone stopped her. It was Quince Lazarre, District Eleven.

"Hi. You might remember me from lunch yesterday." The 18 year old told her. Yes, Azalea vaguely remembered sitting with him yesterday. She nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

"And well, I was watching you right now. So…" Quince shifted uncomfortably. "Would you like to be allies?"

Azalea's brain almost exploded. She thought of good things, like surviving longer and getting more sponsors. Then she also thought of bad things, like Quince betraying her. But no - he didn't seem like the type to do that. Then she got kind of nervous. "Um...I'm j-just wondering...why would you want me to be your ally?"

Quince answered without hesitation. "That's easy. You're strong, and you can help me survive longer by that. You can get sponsors, too, because of your looks." _Was that a compliment or not? Well...I guess it was a compliment._ She thought to herself. It was kind of awkward, with a boy complimenting her.

Azalea didn't want to overthink the alliance request, and get second thoughts. So she said, before she could change her mind, "Of course I would accept. Thank you for inviting me."

Quince visibly relaxed. "You're welcome. I think we'll do good together."

The 16 year old began to wonder something. "Who else is in the alliance?"

"Well, I did invite Lignite. You know, the District Twelve guy who also sat with us yesterday."

Azalea nodded. Lignite seemed a bit aloof, to be honest, but she guessed that he could be helpful if he tried. "So...we're all set. Thanks again."

As she walked quickly to the water fountain, she thought, _Twenty four tributes, one person standing...and I think I might have a chance._

* * *

 **Isobel Wild**

 _ **District Eleven Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **And now, I don't wanna take you if we fall down, don't get upset,**_

 _ **And now, is just the beginning,**_

 _ **And we'll figure it out somehow,**_

 _ **Right now, masquerade."**_

* * *

Isobel watched Quince happily walk off, away from Azalea. So her District Partner had found an alliance, and she had not.

Well, she _had_ the opportunity to belong to the Career alliance, but she couldn't have possibly said yes. Just take Clarence, Vulcan, and Jayda for example. They were _fighting machines._ Skilled each with the swords, bow and arrow, knife, fists, and tomahawk respectively, just the three of them were unbeatable. And then throw Ebony and Hestia in, and they were even more unstoppable. That's exactly why Isobel didn't want to join them. When the Careers split up, and performed what everyone called the "Career Bloodbath", what if they ganged up against her and killed her first? Even with Seeder's training she couldn't stand against them. She still felt a bit guilty for turning them down, and knew she'd be a target, but getting killed at the bloodbath would be easier than getting brutally murdered by Clarence or someone like that.

Well, she didn't include Bay in the list. Bay was actually a pretty nice guy. He reminded her somewhat of Matthias, her friend from back in District Eleven. Hearing, or even _thinking_ Matt's name had a pang to her heart. _Matthias._ She wished she could be with him now, listening to him as he rambled on and on about the importance of positive thinking. And she'd never see him again.

 _Snap out of it._ Isobel told herself. _Positive thinking, remember? You're doing the exact_ opposite _of what Matt would do._

Isobel focused back on the trainer, who was attempting to teach her skills with a trident. Yes, a _trident._ It felt weird holding the weapon in her hand, especially since she was from District Eleven and the trident weapon was more suited for District Four tributes. But she was trying to find a backup weapon, anyway. It would all be fine in the end.

 _Tsk, tsk._ Wrong. She had thought too soon. Isobel simply couldn't get control of the weapon and ended up almost slicing the trainer up into a million pieces - of course, by pure accident. The trainer seemed a little ticked off by her after that, so Isobel left, after apologizing that it was an accident, of course. She was better off by weapons that she could throw.

When she passed by the machete station while going back to the knife-throwing station, Isobel happened to look up and saw that Hestia was giving her the evil eye. The 16 year old shivered before moving on. She definitely made some enemies, and just on the second day of Training.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Rowan Mattock: "** _ **Bury"**_ **(sung by** _ **Pay Money To My Pain)**_

 **Kinsie Surge: "** _ **Mad Hatter"**_ **(sung by** _ **Melanie Martinez)**_

 **Casimir Moretti: "** _ **Sugar Song and Bitter Step"**_ **(sung by** _ **Mafumafu)**_

 **Azalea Sequins: "** _ **Happy"**_ **(sung by** _ **Pharrell Williams)**_

 **Isobel Wild:** " _ **Masquerade"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nicki Minaj)**_

* * *

 **Hey again! April 6 is the one-month anniversary of this story. I can't believe I actually only had this story up for a month - that's crazy! Thanks** _ **so**_ **much for getting me to the 200 reviews point, and again, I only had this story up for a month. You guys are the best.**

 **I promise I will show more of Annette, Celine's imaginary friend. I just didn't get around to making another Celine P.O.V, but I promise there will be one soon.**

* * *

 **Alliances (so far) -**

 **Careers: Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams**

 **Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman**

 **Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 **Alliance #3: Rosemary "Rosie" Fields, Casimir Moretti, Casey Taurus, Dylan Tweed, Kinsie Surge**

 **Alliance #4: Azalea Sequins, Quince Lazarre, Lignite Parker**


	22. Chapter 22 - Training Day Three

**Chapter 22 - Posted on ( 4/8/16)**

* * *

 **Delia Montgomery**

 _ **District Twelve Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **But even if the stars and moon collide,**_

 _ **I never want you back into my life,**_

 _ **You can take your words and all your lies,**_

 _ **Oh oh oh I really don't care."**_

* * *

Every second would count that day - on the final day of Training. It would be cut short because of private sessions, and Delia found some kind of pleasure using throwing knives. She would have to train in them more, though. The days before the arena was coming more quicker than she could count.

Being in the Capitol was everything she had thought it would be, everything her parents told her it would be. The people there looked absolutely stunning and gorgeous. The Capitol lifestyle itself was admiring. And everything was fabulous.

Except for Lignite.

He was just a throwback to her! He complained about everything, and she meant _everything._ Lignite had even managed to find an _alliance,_ and there Delia was, stuck in one place. She just wanted her parents to be with her. But nothing was okay. Maybe it was her price for being mean and aloof all the time.

"Up, up, up!" Effie Trinket's voice trilled from outside her bedroom. Delia sighed and pulled the covers over her head, yelling, "Five more minutes!"

The 17 year old liked Effie and all, but sometimes Effie had too much...energy.

The Capitol woman burst into her room and made a beeline for Delia's bed. She threw the covers off. "30 more minutes until we leave for Training! Shower, get ready, and eat some breakfast."

Effie would not leave Delia alone until she did what she said. The brown-haired girl groaned in annoyance but raised herself into a sitting position, opening her eyes slightly.

"Good." The older woman nodded in approval. "Now go shower."

Delia rubbed her eyes before getting up and going into her own personal bathroom. The sight of herself was never pretty in the morning. She wasn't used to not wearing makeup, and in opinion, everything looked better with makeup. She ignored the mirror and headed right for the shower, hopping in after she was ready for it.

She _did_ have a shower at home, but this one was even better. It had many options, and buttons. Delia turned it on and clicked on the shampoo button. After the shampoo button was pressed, it asked her what flavor she could want. Of course, she picked _strawberry._ Delia could get used to this.

At the end, she had her own drying experience so she didn't have to walk around with wet hair. She had to admit, it was nice. Maybe if she was Victor, she could use this more often and bring her parents so they could try it, too.

Delia walked back into her room and saw that an Avox had laid out her training clothes - black shirt, black pants, black sneakers. There wasn't a splash of color on them, except for some red and gray streaks. She looked like a gymnasium instructor with it on, but she forced herself to wear it.

The thing Delia hated about the outfit was that it was a perfect match to Lignite's outfit. But she couldn't do anything about it.

Delia then brushed out her long, wavy, brown hair and did a high ponytail. There. She was ready for Training. But first, breakfast. She wouldn't be allowed to eat until lunch, which was later in the day.

She stepped out of the bedroom and walked to the kitchen, where Lignite, Effie, and Primrose Everdeen already were. Effie had a cherry red colored wig this year, and makeup was heavily coated onto her face. She wore a dress made of golden glittery fabric, and her heels were stilettos, the same color as her dress. Effie looked like a walking, golden spray-painted manequin. But a fabulous walking, golden spray-painted manequin.

Now, Prim didn't look nearly as great as Effie did. Prim had dark bags under her eyes, probably from the lack of sleep because she was always awake, worrying about Haymitch. According to the blonde 14 year old, Haymitch was just fine the day before she discovered he was nowhere to be found. Delia thought it was always kind of weird that her own mentor was younger than her. But Prim was an admirable heroine in her eyes, so she decided just to deal with it.

Lignite, unfortunately, was up. He was currently biting into his bacon, with a dull look on his face. He seemed annoyed, even this early in the morning. He had always had a glass-half-empty, negative view of the world. Delia knew there was something behind all of this, but never had worked up the courage to ask him about it. Maybe it was something that happened back home.

 _Home._ Hearing the words hit Delia with a pang from her heart. It was surprised that she didn't just miss her parents and Tomoko. She missed being superior in every way to her peers, and dominating the District. She missed trying to break every boy's heart. She missed...well, District Twelve. And now that she was in the Capitol, well...she did like it there, but she felt like a ship lost at sea.

She had overheard Effie speaking to Prim on the train, and Effie had said no visitors had came to see Lignite. Maybe no one liked Lignite. She certainly didn't like him…

Delia was forced to sit next to her District Partner at the four-seater table. She didn't like her situation one bit.

After breakfast was finished and cleaned up, Effie escorted the duo to the elevator. Prim got in with them, but exited at the District Ten floor. The mentor was going to hang out with Lynx Maybelle. From what Delia had heard, Lynx was really sarcastic and spitfire-like, but once you got to know her she was a nice girl. The 17 year old guessed that Prim had a strong friendship bond with Lynx because they were the closest in age that Victors could ever get. Being both 14 and 17 respectively, they hung out together more than they hung out with old Victors.

Lignite and Delia exchanged dirty looks at each other as the elevator descended down to the Training Room level. They were District Partners, but they didn't get along in the least.

As the elevator doors opened at the correct level, Effie waved goodbye to them, still inside of the mechanism. "Ta-ta!" The Capitol woman called. "I'll see you two later."

Delia immediately went to the throwing knife station, wanting to get away from Lignite as soon as possible. To her credit, he didn't try to follow her but he went to the axe station. There were all kinds of axes at his station. Lignite selected a pickaxe from the rack. She supposed that he was most comfortable using it, considering he was a miner in District Twelve and all.

She picked up a knife, and stared down the dummy she was going to throw the knife at. Checking that her stance was correct, the trainer there gave her a nod, signaling that she was good to go. Delia threw the weapon forcefully at her target, and it hit its shoulder. She sighed; it was good (at least she had hit the target), but in the arena, it would not be fatal to kill or really injure anyone. Next to her, Isobel Wild from District Eleven threw her own knife with perfect accuracy at her target. It made its mark square in the heart.

Delia sighed again. Would she really even survive the Bloodbath?

* * *

 **Jayda Newell**

 _ **District One Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You're hot and you're cold,**_

 _ **you're yes and you're no**_

 _ **You're in and you're out,**_

 _ **You're up and you're down."**_

* * *

Jayda eyed the dummy, before effectively slicing it to pieces. Perfect - all her training back in District One had paid off. She put her katana back on the sword rack and walked to the knife station, with intent of talking to Clarence, also known as the leader of the Career Pack.

Just hearing the words _Career Pack_ put Jayda on edge. It wasn't that she didn't _like_ them - no, she was a faithful Career through and through. But she couldn't really describe what she thought about the Pack.

Two days ago, at the first Training Day. At the first lunch.

When that Taurus Whittaker had an episode (she guessed that he had bad mood swings and a bipolar disorder, just like her), the Careers had laughed loudly at his expense. They ridiculed him, teased him, criticized him. Jayda had pretended to laugh along with her allies. She was finally out of District One, and no one knew her here. She could turn over a new leaf and act like all the bullying that happened to her back at her home didn't happen at all. Jayda didn't want to be called a freak, a disgrace, weird, or anything like that. She just wanted to fit in.

She was almost sure that no one heard that her laugh came out a little forced.

The thing was, she had mood swings, too. Nobody in the Career Pack, or of all the 24 tributes, knew about her secret. But it was bound to change - she might have an episode of her own in the arena or even still in the Capitol.

And after seeing how the Careers treated Taurus, Jayda was wondering how the Careers would treat _her_ if they found out she had mood swings, too. Would she be a pariah, an outcast? Would she get kicked out of the pack? She'd probably get killed by the hands of her own District Partner, Clarence, if he had ever found out her little surprise.

And yet, now she was still walking toward him. The closest thing she had to a friend in the Games - but also her worst enemy.

Jayda's head started spinning, and her breathing came a bit rapid. She was only a 17 year old girl. And she was going to be a murderer.  
She was going to be a murderer who murdered innocent children.

Jayda shook her head to clear her mind, and continued walking towards Clarence. She was faithful to the Career Pack. Her thoughts had only made her angrier. _I have to win - and as a Career._

But all of a sudden, Jayda had had a longing, lingering feeling that she just wanted to go home.

* * *

 **Huxley Cathode**

 _ **District Three Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You seem to replace,**_

 _ **Your brain with your heart,**_

 _ **You take things so hard,**_

 _ **and then you fall apart."**_

* * *

Huxley was at the javelin station, and he was more hopeless than anyone could ever imagine. He _could not_ hit the target. Period.

The worst thing about that day was that the time was cut short, due to private sessions. So, he only had about ten minutes left until the sessions, where he was bound to only get a 2.

He hadn't found a weapon he was good at. Over the past three days, he had tried _everything._ Everything varied from the swords, to the knives, to the scythes, to the tridents, to the traps. He had even tried rope-tying, rock climbing, the crossbow, and the bow and arrow. But still no luck - it had officially ran out the day of the Reapings.

The ten minutes passed by quicker than a snap. Most of the time was wasted by the trainer scolding him about "not having the proper form" and "throwing wrong". Huxley was clearly not fit for anything. He bet the trainers wished he hadn't been Reaped at all - so they wouldn't have to deal with his klutziness.

He had been steering clear of all the stations which Careers or Zoe Mercedes occupied. After witnessing them all laughing at Taurus Whittaker, the District Ten male, the first lunch, he didn't want to get involved with those maniacs. The Careers were mostly spread out at all the weapon stations, so he had no option to really go anywhere. And Zoe was at the snares station, so he didn't want to go there, either.

Have you ever heard the expression _saved by the bell?_ Well, in this case, Huxley was saved by the whistle as Atala, the head trainer, blew hers and called for everyone to halt. That only meant one thing - Training was over and it was time for the dreaded private sessions.

Huxley sighed and walked toward the large double doors made out of stainless steel. He found himself at Eudora's side. "Private sessions." He complained. "I think I'm going to get a 1."

Dora shrugged. "Whatever." If Huxley had learned anything, it was definitely that she didn't pay attention to things sometimes. If you told her to do something and left her alone for an hour, when you came back she'd have forgotten all about it. She was not the sharpest pencil in the jar, that was for sure.

With no one left to turn to, Huxley was left to walk by himself into the next room - the waiting room for the private sessions.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Delia Montgomery: "** _ **Really Don't Care"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

 **Jayda Newell: "** _ **Hot 'N' Cold"**_ **(sung by** _ **Katy Perry)**_

 **Huxley Cathode: "** _ **Crybaby"**_ **(sung by** _ **Melanie Martinez)**_

* * *

 **Hi! Sorry this was a little short - I didn't really have any inspiration for it, but I promise next chapter will be longer. Soon, we will be in the arena!**

 **What was your favorite P.O.V? And since I seriously need suggestions, can you give me ideas on what Training Scores to give to everyone? State so in your reviews. That would really help. Thanks!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

 **Alliances (so far) -**

 **Careers: Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams**

 **Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman**

 **Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 **Alliance #3: Rosemary "Rosie" Fields, Casimir Moretti, Casey Taurus, Dylan Tweed, Kinsie SurgeAlliance #4: Azalea Sequins, Quince Lazarre, Lignite Parker**


	23. Chapter 23 - Private Sessions Part One

**Chapter 23 - Posted on ( 4/12/16)**

* * *

 **Claire Cypress**

 _ **Head Gamemaker. 34 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Like a small boat, on the ocean**_

 _ **Sending big waves, into motion,**_

 _ **Like how a single word, can make a heart open**_

 _ **I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion."**_

* * *

As soon as 34 year old Claire Cypress walked into the Gamemaker section, divided from the rest of the Training Room with glass, the other Gamemakers immediately silenced. Claire smirked and took the seat at the head of the room. She set her red mug - red, like the color of blood - on the coffee table behind her and turned to face her other co-workers.

Claire was _very_ intimidating. Though she was a new Head Gamemaker, she had been a Gamemaker for years, so she was very experienced. With her red painted lips and matching nails, she looked like a secret girl spy who used her looks, and manipulation, to get what she wanted. Plutarch Heavensbee, the Head Gamemaker the previous year, was killed by President Snow for making an unoriginal arena. Come on. It was just a jungle - nothing special about it.

Even her wavy, chest-length hair, which was naturally black, was streaked with the same color red. She sure did like the color red, and it was all because of blood. She had a certain...bloodlust.

"This year we're going to make things extraordinary, not like last year at all." She said confidently, with a flip of her hair. "And we'll start by observing all our tributes. Is everyone ready?"

Her dark eyes - surgically modified to be the color of midnight black - scanned through the group of Gamemakers, daring for anyone to disagree with her. When no one did, she, satisfied, turned on the PA microphone and spoke into it. "Jayda Newell, District One Female."

Almost immediately after, the blonde 17 year old emerged through the iron doors and into the room. Jayda bowed.

Claire gave her a little nod, indicating that she could begin. Jayda waltzed over to the sword station and picked up dual blades. Then, she asked for several trainers to come battle her.

Her requests were fulfilled when Claire sent several trainers out to challenge her. She watched closely as Jayda was surrounded with five experienced trainers. The 17 year old would have to show skills. If she beat all of them, then she would at least get an 8.

Jayda's eyes narrowed and she studied her opponents. She could easily decipher their strengths and weaknesses as they began to attack. Soon enough, they were all disarmed. Jayda smirked - she had won.

Claire was impressed. She made a mark on her clipboard - this girl had definitely earned her 8.

But Jayda Newell was not done. The 17 year old Career went over next to the healing station and grabbed a strip of white cloth. Interested to see what she could do with the cloth, all the Gamemakers paid attention.

Jayda then walked over to the archery station and picked up a bow. She walked back to the spot where she would shoot her arrow. But instead of shooting right away, she began tying the piece of white cloth over her eyes. _Of course._ It was a blindfold.

When Jayda was done, she equipped her bow and arrow. Then, after she positioned herself, she shot a different target 5 times. 4 out of 5 arrows hit the target, but the one that didn't make its mark missed completely. Claire was even more impressed. She made another mark on her clipboard. _She will get a 9 or 10, according to what my colleagues think._

When Jayda left, Clarence was next. "Clarence Reiss, District One Male." Claire said into the microphone. Almost a second later, the door opened and a tall, muscular 18 year old strided confidently into the room. He went straight to the sword station, much like Jayda did. He arranged several dummies in a circle, and sliced them up rather horrifically. Claire was absolutely stunned by his skill - within seconds, they were in shreds on the grounds, looking absolutely obliterated. After that, Clarence went to the knife station and lined the dummies up in a circle around him once again. He spun with his knife out in front of him, resulting in all of his "opponents" being beheaded in one go.

But the Career leader was not done yet. He asked for one trainer, and Claire sent one of them out to him. They readied their stances and charged. But the trainer had no time was swing his weapon. Clarence's knife flew through the air, aiming for the older man's neck, and he had to block. Clarence took the chance while the trainer was distracted - he grabbed the man by the neck and started to strangle him. But the most scariest part was not the attack, nor was it that the trainer was losing air. It was the murderous look in the District One tribute's eyes. It was the look of a madman.

Claire didn't want to miss out on the blood, but she couldn't afford someone dying right now. She rapped her knuckles on the coffee table next to her, bringing Clarence to her attention. "That will be enough. Thank you." She said simply. The 18 year old released the trainer, disappointed, before going out.

The Head Gamemaker ordered avoxes to take the trainer to the hospital wing, before speaking into the microphone once more. "Hestia Gabbro, District Two Female."

The said girl slipped into the Training Room straight away. She was a pretty girl, with wavy hair that reached down to her mid-back. Hestia was definitely muscular, like the previous two tributes, and was athletically built. She went to get a machete and drove it deep into a dummy's "heart". She repeated the same actions for several other dummies. Then, she got another dummy and gave them a long, drawn out death.

Afterward, Hestia went to the plant identifying station and showed a decent skill. She had missed several questions but did not disappoint. A Career never usually shown survival skills, and Claire liked how this girl did. The Head Gamemaker made another note on her clipboard. This girl definitely deserved a high score.

The next person to come in was "Vulcan Hardy, District Two Male." She was interested to see how he would do, being Reaped and all. He definitely looked like a threat, and he did seem trained. It would be a matter of time in the arena until he got some kills. This Vulcan seemed dangerous.

His skills did not lack. In the time it took for him to finish his private session, he had wrestled several trainers and defeated them all, and he had used an axe to hack a few dummies to bits. He was no short of a true Career. He seemed like competition for even Clarence Reiss, the Pack leader. When he left, Claire lazily called an Avox to get more dummies. There were only a few left.

The next girl was the first outlying District tribute they would observe performing. Her name was Eudora Macintosh. "Eudora Macintosh, District Three Female."

When the brown haired 14 year old walked in, Claire couldn't help noticing that something seemed a little off about the girl. She just couldn't put two-and-two together, though. Some tributes were mysteries - and this Eudora was one of them. The District Three female wandered from station to station, using each weapon. It didn't go out so well for her. For one, when she tried to throw a spear it missed the target completely and ended up hitting the far wall. As for the bow and arrow, the arrow fell limply to the ground. _I thought District Three was made up of smart tributes._ Finally, Eudora settled on going to the rock climbing wall. Needless to say, it was an absolute _disaster._ She ended up falling off of it twice and miraculously, she wasn't hurt. On her third time attempting, she finally got to the end, and had earned herself a scrape on her arm. Climbing down was even harder than one could expect; Eudora climbed down about halfway...and jumped to the ground. She surprisingly did not get injured. Claire dismissed the girl soon after - she was bound to die early in the Games. Claire was planning on giving this Eudora a low score, such as a 2, but for surviving that jump alone, she decided to give her a 3.

"Huxley Cathode, District Three Male." Claire sure hoped this tribute wasn't as clueless and absentminded as the other.

Nope - no luck. Huxley was only a 13 year old boy who clearly did not know what he was doing. He went to the survival stations, and failed miserably at identifying berries, making fires, making snares for animals, and tying ropes. It seemed he had just picked up on these skills and was not used to them yet. Oh, well. The District Three tributes this year did not have much potential, if any.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Huxley's time was up and Claire sent him back out. Finally, some interesting Career tributes would be next. She always favored Career tributes, the reason being that they were trained and knew what they were doing. It was always fun to watch their skills be demonstrated, especially in the arena. Their fights were usually quick but filled with excitement, and the thrill.

She called in for the next tribute, _Ebony Williams._ Ebony was, of course, the District Four Female. She was bound to get a high score after she demonstrated her skills; Ebony chose to use a flail (Claire was surprised she didn't use a trident, as much District Four tributes did), and she made decent damage on the dummies. Then Ebony asked for a trainer to battle, which Claire obliged. Soon enough, the trainer had lost the battle and he was disarmed. The red streak-haired Head Gamemaker was very impressed, and Ebony was going to be a good opponent in the arena.

The last Career that would be performing was Bay Riverside. Claire called him in, and almost immediately after he entered the room, he walked to the spear section. He had seemed a bit cocky, and maybe a little lazy, when he came in, but as he picked up a spear and prepared to throw it, his form and stance were correct and proper. Bay's aim was true as he pulled back his arm and launched the weapon. It landed perfectly on bull's eye. Claire smiled, engrossed; as she stated before, Careers were always interesting. After, he waltzed around with the same weapon, ripping up dummies with it as he went. Definitely amazing skills. Since she was especially biased and prejudiced to the Careers, she decided on giving him a high score, a 9.

"Kinsie Surge, District Five Female." Claire announced. The Careers were done their performances, so she was now subjected to watching the 16 other tributes.

She was actually quite curious to see Kinsie. After all, Kinsie Surge was the youngest tribute in the Games this year, at 12 years old. And according to the gossip and rumors she had heard throughout the Capitol via its residents, Claire had learned that Kinsie's brother had competed in the Games one year and made it quite far. Maybe Kinsie would do the same, or even win the crown in his name.

As soon as the 12 year old walked in, she knew that she wasn't one of the young, weak 12 year olds that were usually sent from outlying Districts. Kinsie was a spitfire, from the looks of it, and she seemed like she maybe had a chance against all the other tributes. And if looks could kill, the glares she was giving the Gamemakers would put them six feet under. Kinsie went to the knife station after some glances around the Training Center and picked up a combat knife. Then she asked for a trainer to battle, in a similar manner to some other tributes earlier. A ripple of murmurs went through the Gamemakers' room; now, they wanted to see _this._ When the trainer came out, Kinsie readied her stance and slashed at the man. When he sliced at her, she dodged. When he blocked, she kicked. Kinsie was definitely a skilled little 12 year old - this battle would be very interesting. _Very_ interesting.

Finally, there was a losing point in the game. Kinsie sliced her knife through the air but miscalculated and ended up not hitting the man at all. The trainer used that to her advantage to take her in a headlock from behind and he pointed the knife at her throat. Claire knew Kinsie had lost but was still impressed. She marked down a relatively high number for a 12 year old, a 6.

The next tribute to come in was Kinsie's District Partner. "Roy Lentz, District Five Male."

She didn't even notice Roy came in at first. His footsteps were quiet, and agile - she hadn't heard him. Claire caught notice of him after recognizing his brunette hair. Otherwise, he would have gone unnoticed. Roy first travelled - _quietly_ \- to the knife station, much like Kinsie did. He didn't ask for a trainer, though. He picked up a throwing knife and tested it for balance. Then he whipped it at the target.

When it made its mark, he frowned slightly with a downturn of the corner of his lips. It had hit the ring outside of the bull's eye. Claire thought it was pretty good for an outer District tribute, but Roy didn't think so.

Over the next few minutes, he thrown more knives at the target and did a pretty decent job (though, Claire noted, he did not hit any bull's eyes). Once he realized that the Gamemakers were getting a bit restless and tired with that, he quickly switched gears and did the obstacle course to demonstrate his agility and abilities. The trainer timed him and Roy had completed it in only a matter of seconds. _That_ was impressive.

Claire thought about the score she was going to give him before marking it down on her clipboard and sending him out. All of these tributes had potential - but only one lone teen would live through all the tragedy and death. Not to mention blood. Claire was excited to see the blood.

Next, it was time for District Six. She pressed the button and said, "Zoe Mercedes, District Six."

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Claire Cypress: "** _ **Fight Song"**_ **(sung by** _ **Rachel Platten)**_

* * *

 **By the way, in this AU, Plutarch did not make the clock-jungle arena. He had only made a jungle arena, with nothing special about it...and he was executed for it.**

 **On subject of Head Gamemakers, how did you like Claire? Would you like to see more of her?**

 **Once again I had to split this up into two parts. Don't worry - the training scores will be coming out next chapter. Sorry I couldn't get all the way to District Six. I've just went 4 days without updating, so I just wanted to get something out for you guys.**

 **Also, since some important tests are coming up, so updates will be a bit slower. I'll still update at least two times a week, though. I hope you're okay with that!**

 **Anyway, may the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Alliances -**

 **Careers:** **Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams**

 **Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman**

 **Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 **Alliance #3: Rosemary "Rosie" Fields, Casimir Moretti, Casey Taurus, Dylan Tweed, Kinsie Surge**

 **Alliance #4: Azalea Sequins, Quince Lazarre, Lignite Parker**


	24. Chapter 24 - Private Sessions Part Two

**Chapter 24 - Posted on ( 4/15/16)**

* * *

 **Claire Cypress**

 _ **Head Gamemaker. 34 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Like a small boat, on the ocean**_

 _ **Sending big waves, into motion,**_

 _ **Like how a single word, can make a heart open**_

 _ **I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion."**_

* * *

Claire was interested to see how this Zoe Mercedes would do in her private session. She was quite the talk of Capitol when the footage of her flashing a rude sign at her escort at the District Six escort was shown. The 34 year old was setting high standards for the girl. She was definitely guaranteed to survive long in the arena, maybe even be the Victor.

Zoe clopped loudly into the room after a few seconds. This was quite a change from Roy - he was a very quiet, stealthy person whereas in contrast, Zoe was very loud. She was loud not just verbally, but physically. Looking at her, even if she didn't say anything, something screamed that she was rebellious. Her crossed arms and defiant glare definitely proved that. She went to the knife station first, much like the previous two tributes. Unlike Roy but like Kinsie, she equipped a combat knife. Then she began to furiously attack dummies like her life depended on it.

Such skill. Claire was impressed. Another outer District high score, for that alone. After that, Zoe went to the fire-starting course and made a fire in just a few strokes.

Louis Lindbergh was next, and though Claire paid close attention to the 17 year old, he was quite unimpressive. What he did was show his knowledge of poisons. He mixed up some quick concoctions but didn't actually fight or show any other skills. She decided to give him a 3.

Next up was the District Seven Female, and she hoped she would be more impressive. "Celine Woodman, District Seven Female."

* * *

 **Celine Woodman**

 _ **District Seven Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Possibly."**_

* * *

Celine gulped as she heard her name over the loudspeaker. Slowly, she stood and walked to the door, which would seal her fate. Before opening it, she looked back into the room. Azalea and Dylan were talking together. Casimir, Rosie, and Casey had made a group of their own and were discussing Bloodbath plans. Taurus was sitting by himself, a lone wolf. Isobel Wild was sitting quietly by herself as well, observing everyone and seemed to be lost in thought. Quince Lazarre and Lignite Parker were sitting together, talking about things they liked and disliked in the Capitol. Delia Montgomery was complaining about how she had a random stain on her shirt.

Celine's eyes met Rowan's, and he gave her a thumbs up, along with an encouraging smile. The 14 year old beamed back at him, before opening the doors and walking into the room.

All her confidence quickly faded as she entered. Everything seemed so much more dark, and mysterious than the Training Center she remembered. And it was very quiet. Before, in Training, there was usually clashing of weapons together and shouts of victory, all the while with the tributes talking. Now it was silent.

And up above her, were the Gamemakers. The Head Gamemaker Claire Cypress studied her. Celine felt weak and nervous. She needed help.

 _Celine._

The District Seven girl almost jumped out of her skin. It was only Annette. Annette usually appeared in times that she was alone, or afraid. Private Sessions counted as one of those times. _Hey, Annette._ She thought back. _A little advice?_

Annette seemed to be thinking for a moment before answering. _Don't show fear. Be strong. Go do whatever it is Careers do._

Celine almost groaned out loud. _Thanks a lot._ She wasn't close to being a Career. First things first, she was only a petite 14 year old girl from District Seven. She wasn't even employed back home, so she didn't have any muscles. Second of all, she barely knew any skills. She couldn't use a bow and arrow, let alone _hold_ it the proper way, and she was no better with an axe, though people might've generalized that all District Seven citizens knew how to use an axe. By all means, she was a puny girl who had no chance of surviving the arena.

But still...she could act, right?

Celine set her jaw, rolled her shoulders, and stood up straight. Making eye contact with Claire, she gave her a curt nod to show she was ready. Then, Celine went over to the knife station. She was sure the Gamemakers were surprised she didn't go to the axe station, but Celine sure was full of surprises.

She picked up a small hunting knife with her dominant hand and studied it. It seemed good for her size. Perfect. Turning next to her, she faced the dummy and started to hack it to pieces. She fell into perfect rhythm with her strikes and made sure she had the right footwork. Out of the corner of her eye, Claire was making notes on a clipboard. Celine hoped for a high score.

When the dummy was almost completed shredded, Celine beheaded it with one final swing. The head _thumped_ onto the ground and rolled far off into the distance. She panted heavily, but it was worth it.

Claire called from her elevated position, "That will be all. Thank you."

Celine nodded back at her and began to walk to the exit. She hoped she'd done well, and she thought she did. It would all come down to the televised scores, after all.

* * *

 **Claire Cypress**

 _ **Head Gamemaker. 34 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Like a small boat, on the ocean**_

 _ **Sending big waves, into motion,**_

 _ **Like how a single word, can make a heart open**_

 _ **I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion."**_

* * *

Claire was quite amused by the 14 year old's display. She had proper form and good footwork. This Celine Woodman would be getting a high score. Now for her District Partner, Rowan Mattock. Claire hoped he'd be as interesting as her…

After calling him in, she took another sip of her coffee. She had refused for the Avoxes to serve any alcoholic beverages, so the Gamemakers would focus and pay attention to the tributes more. Much to her dismay, the plan backfired; her colleagues were getting restless.

"Pay attention." Claire barked at them. "This is an important time in history, and I refuse to let the 76th Hunger Games disappoint President Snow."

Rowan entered the room quite slowly. Claire's face dawned with recognition once she realized he was the one who had an injury on his forearm. Her face immediately hardened. Poor him. _Let's see how well he holds up._

Instead of going to any weapon stations, he opted to go for the survival stations. It was probably a wiser choice. If he went for the weapon stations, he might've performed very badly. Rowan travelled to the plant identifying station first. He scored a perfect on that. Claire observed, _It must be his advantage that he grew up in a plant District. He knows a lot about plants and wildlife._

Rowan literally went to every survival station he could. Fire starting, shelter-making, trap-building - everything. He was running out of things to do, but he was saved when Claire let him leave. She was quite impressed by his knowledge, though. She would give him a 5 or 6.

"Azalea Sequins, District Eight Female." She called. She hoped Azalea would be interesting. At the moment, she was giving everyone high scores. She needed to tone it down a little bit.

But her tactic did not work this time. Azalea was very impressive. When the 16 year old walked in, she equipped herself with a stiletto and shield, asking for a trainer to come battle. When the battle began, she made the first move by swinging her stiletto at his face. Once the trainer was distracted by that, she kicked him in the stomach, _hard,_ and as he stumbled on the ground, she took the opportunity to point the stiletto at his neck. At the end of it all, Claire gave another high score.

Well, the next tribute was a 13 year old. She could probably get a low score in this time if Dylan wasn't interesting. "Dylan Tweed, District Eight Male."

Dylan first head straight to the obstacle course, his eyes first being attracted to that. He showed his agility by completing the course in only a matter of time. He was quite fast, Claire could admit. Afterward, he grabbed a dagger and showed off his skill by sinking it deep into the dummy. As his final display, Dylan went to the rope-tying station and demonstrates how to make a noose to hang something. Although, Claire noted, he would probably be too soft to do that in the arena.

Next was Rosemary Fields, the District Nine Female. Time had gone by very fast, and now the sessions were almost over. "Rosemary Fields, District Nine Female."

When Rosemary came in, she picked a station that Claire hadn't seen anyone go to in the private sessions yet so far. Rosemary went over to the medicine/healing station. The 16 year old teen demonstrated many ways to create remedies for curing people. Claire's guess was that she had some kind of previous experience; Rosemary was very advanced in the medical field. After that, she absentmindedly shot some arrows with a bow, not doing very well. Her session's time ran out swiftly, and Claire called in the next tribute.

"Casimir Moretti, District Nine Male." Claire remembered Casimir was the brother of the girl who got shot at the Reapings. She was eager to watch how he was handling the death.

When Casimir came in, Claire inspected him carefully. He looked a bit vulnerable, and afraid, but she still wanted to see his skills.

The 15 year old headed over to the survival stations, and wandered from each one to the next. At every survival station, he did not do very well, and he just moved on. Claire was getting a headache. This reminded her of Rowan's Private Session.

When his time ran out, she was glad. Claire marked down a relatively low score for him, but not too low, and then called in Casey Taurus.

"Casey Taurus, District Ten Female."

* * *

 **Casey Taurus**

 _ **District Ten Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **This tug of war can't go on anymore,**_

 _ **Nobody wins from this misery,  
Free, well oh can't you see,  
I wanna be, I want you to be, free."**_

* * *

Casey stood, alone, from her chair to enter the room. Just moments before, Casimir and Rosie had left for their very own sessions, and it was just her for a few minutes. But now it was her turn.

The waiting room had turned silent and impatient. Everyone wanted to get out of there and get their session over with. No one was talking anymore, and Casey was glad to escape the room, which felt like prison.

But once she entered the Training Room she wasn't glad anymore. All of her morale and tenacity swept out of her as if something had knocked the air straight out of her lungs. Claire, the Head Gamemaker, looked even more intimidating in person rather than on TV. There was just a certain tilt of her chin that screamed she was authority.

Casey trembled at the sight of her, and turned away to the stations for something else to look at. She didn't want to make eye contact with the Head Gamemaker anymore.

Casey hastily considered her options. She wasn't very good at using a dagger, so she decided not to perform with that skill. She, instead, decided to go to the traps station and make some traps she'd learned back on Training Day One.

Her trap was one that left the victim dangling from a leg. Casey knew it was a good way to hunt when she was in the arena, though she certainly didn't want to kill any animals. It just wasn't in her nature to do that.

As she walked out, Casey hoped that she had impressed Claire, and that she would get a high score.

She needed it.

* * *

 **Claire Cypress**

 _ **Head Gamemaker. 34 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Like a small boat, on the ocean**_

 _ **Sending big waves, into motion,**_

 _ **Like how a single word, can make a heart open**_

 _ **I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion."**_

* * *

Claire was interested to see the next tribute: Taurus Whittaker, 17 year old District Ten Male. From the rumors she heard about the Capitol, he was emotionally broken and was prone to tantrums. She wanted to see his skill, and what he could do, besides that one problem.

"Taurus Whittaker, District Ten Male."

Once he came in, the teen hurried over to the mace station and asked for a trainer to fight, much like previous other tributes. Claire studied Taurus in the battle as he fought courageously. Well, he was beaten easily, but he had put up a good effort. After that, Taurus dropped the mace down on the floor and went over to the agility obstacle course, like Dylan. He ran like the wind past all the obstacles. He wasn't as advanced as you could get with the mace, but he sure had good stamina.

"Isobel Wild, District Eleven Female." Claire was also interested in this girl. She was the granddaughter of a Victor, Seeder. Isobel was probably previously trained for the Games. As usual, and as she had said before, trained tributes were always interesting.

Isobel first went to the knife station and chucked knifes as if her life depended on it. She hit the bull's eye consistently and generally did very well. Then, she scaled the rock climbing wall with little effort. Isobel Wild was very talented. Claire couldn't wait to see her in action in the arena.

After Isobel was her District Partner, named Quince Lazarre. Claire called him in and watched him expectantly. Quince went to the weight-lifting area of the Training Room, and he lifted a heavy weight with ease. He repeated the steps for other weights, gradually increasing in heaviness. Claire was impressed at how much he could hold up. After that, he demonstrated what he knew about survival skills, although it wasn't much.

Onto the last District. The last female tribute for the day would be named Delia Montgomery. From what Claire had heard, she was a major Capitol supporter. But she had also heard that Delia was all talk, nothing else. Apparently she was one of those bratty, snobby girls who liked to show off. But if the rumors were true, Delia _had_ nothing to show off. "Delia Montgomery, District Twelve Female."

Well, Delia had performed okay. She had first went to the camouflage station and painted a dummy like a shrubbery. Her camouflaging skills were a little rusty, but if you put the dummy in a forest, it would definitely look like a shrubbery. Afterwards, she threw several knives at her piece of art. Only one of the seven knives she had flung hit her target. Claire was right: Delia _was_ all talk.

The last tribute was Lignite. "Lignite Parker, District Twelve Male."

He was a physically strong looking tribute, and Claire was correct about him being strong once the 18 year old challenged a trainer to a wrestling match. Claire was really drawn in once she saw the trainer was bigger and even more muscular than Lignite was. This fight would be suspenseful.

They dodged, sidestepped, and defended themselves, but they mostly went on offense, kicking and punching their hearts out. The battle ended when Lignite somehow managed to put the trainer in a chokehold. That was very impressive.

Finally, Private Sessions were over and it was time for scoring. 24 tributes and 24 scores.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Claire Cypress: "** _ **Fight Song**_ " **(sung by** _ **Rachel Platten)**_

 **Celine Woodman: "** _ **Crazy"**_ **(sung by** _ **Gnarls Barkley)**_

 **Casey Taurus:** " _ **Free"**_ **(sung by** _ **Haley Reinhart)**_

* * *

 **Hi again! I actually had a cool idea for the revealing of the scores, so that will be next chapter. I hope you liked private sessions. Whose session was your favorite? I'm sorry it was a little repetitive.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

 _ **Second edit: Reading the reviews, I realized I had forgot Casimir. Sorry! He's there now. Thanks for having a sharp eye, everyone!**_


	25. Chapter 25 - Training Score Reveals

**Chapter 25 - Posted on ( 4/20/16)**

* * *

 **Reiss Family (Clarence's Family)**

* * *

"As you know, the tributes were rated on a scale from 1 - 12 after three days of careful evaluation. The Gamemakers would like to…"

India and Rhine tuned out of Azuria's long speech. Their son, Clarence, was up first, and they hoped he had done well. That way, he could get sponsors for the arena.

After her talking, a picture of Clarence popped up on the side of the screen. It was time to begin.

Seeing her son again, even in a picture, made India make a weird noise in the back of her throat. Rhine, however, didn't even bat an eye. He didn't care about his son whatsoever.

"From District One, Clarence. With a score of…"

Time seemed to go slower and slower and slower. India was expecting a high score and had high hopes for her son. But she was expecting him to get something like a 9, and not a -

"Ten."

She relaxed in visible relief. Her son had gotten a very high score - there was nothing to worry about.

* * *

 **Jasmine Clifford (Jayda's Best Friend)**

* * *

After seeing Clarence getting a 10 for his score, Jasmine was excited to see how Jayda had done. Hopefully well. Jasmine would have gave anything to see what she had done in her Private Session. Maybe when Jayda came home, she could tell her about it.

Things were different without Jayda. Now, in the Training Center, she had no one to really talk to. Most of the 18 year olds who didn't make it to Volunteering became the trainers and old trainers retired. How she wished Jayda was here with her.

"From District One, Jayda Newell, with a score of 9." Azuria announced, a smile flickering on her face.

Jasmine beamed and leaned back on the couch. It wasn't enough to best Clarence, but she knew Jayda could do it.

* * *

 **Lynn (Vulcan's Boss)**

Lynn flicked her pale blonde hair over her shoulder and frowned at the large screen. She had ducked into the Square to watch the score reveals. Not many people were here. Some people liked to watch it in the comfort of their homes.

Vulcan was next. The past two tributes, District One tributes, had gotten each a 10 and a 9 respectively. Lynn wondered what Vulcan would get. He was quite talented with wrestling, and upon further inspection in the Training Center, he was good with a tomahawk.

"From District Two, Vulcan Hardy, with a score of 10."

Lynn frowned slightly. It was good enough...but would _Vulcan_ be good enough when it really came down to it? She turned and walked away from the Square in her black clothing.

 _He better survive the arena. Or else._

* * *

 **Gabbro Family (Hestia's Family)**

* * *

Petra was nervous. Everyone before Hestia had gotten either a 10 or a 9. She was really hoping that her daughter did well.

Gaius was just not caring. He wasn't even there; he left for work earlier on. Maybe he didn't care about Hestia's well-being, in absolute contrast to Petra.

Hera was...Hera. She was still a pregnant, grumpy, cranky woman. But she did seem to perk up when Hestia's name was called.

"From District Two, Hestia Gabbro, with a score of 9."

The two women smiled at each other. If Hestia was doing well, it was all that mattered.

* * *

 **Cathode Family (Huxley's Family)**

* * *

Telle Cathode was rubbing her hands together in anticipation. She was eager to see how her son did. Maybe he would have finally got his senses together during Training and he found a weapon he preferred.

Dysk, her husband, was quietly staring at the screen with a sad expression on his face. He thought about all the times Huxley needed his help, and he couldn't give it to him. Dysk wished he knew his son better. He wished he wasn't always so busy at work. He wished -

"From District Three, Huxley, with a score of 2."

Telle was a little disappointed. Dysk could surmise that their son had performed badly for his Private Session.

But a thought struck him like a lightning bolt; quick, fast, and effective. _If Huxley hadn't changed, and he only got a 2 in Training, then there's a big chance that he isn't coming home._

* * *

 **Macintosh Family (Eudora's Family)**

* * *

Nina filed her nails elegantly, not caring in the slightest how her daughter had performed. She wanted Eudora to die, anyway - that's what she deserved. In a way, Nina was almost _thankful_ for the Hunger Games. She didn't have to deal with her daughter anymore.

Hugo paid attention to the screen, unlike Nina. He was unhappy with how Dora had turned out, but a small part of him just wanted her to come home.

Eugenie, 11 years old, and Euclid, 8 years old, both loved their sister. They missed Eudora. They missed her positive-ness, her laugh, and her smile. They missed how she was always happy, even when she was being ridiculed. Of course, she was also a little slow to pick up on things, but it was just _Eudora._ If she wasn't like that, then she wouldn't be the same.

"From District Three, Eudora Macintosh, with a score of 3."

Nina let out a little snort. But Hugo, Eugenie, and Euclid could only hope for the best.

* * *

 **Penelope Tank (Bay's Best Friend)**

* * *

Penelope had practically been living over at the Riverside's residence ever since Bay Volunteered. She knew he had it in him to win, and she missed him terribly, wanting to see him again. They had grew up together, and almost _were_ each other's childhood.

She wanted Bay to win.

Everyone in the household seemed like a dim lightbulb ever since Bay left them. No smiles on anyone's faces, which was odd. Penelope grew up seeing Bay's father, Tristian's, smile and horrible jokes everyday. Now everything had changed - and for the worse.

"From District Four, Bay Riverside, with a score of 9."

Penelope sighed in relief and allowed herself a small smile. With that score, maybe Bay could be coming home.

* * *

 **Williams Family (Ebony's Family)**

* * *

Even without their loudmouthed sister, Ebony, the house was still very noisy all of the time. Marina spent her days storming around the house in a huff, yelling about how she was going to be the female tribute but Ebony apparently backstabbed her. If anyone wanted the 17 year old to die, it was Marina.

Though Marina wasn't going to be in the Games, she became a trainer in the Training Center. Maybe that could make up for it.

Dylan was a bit worried for his sister's well-being. He wanted her to live. He liked Ebony enough, and missed her a lot when she was away. He was still keeping up with his trident training, but training wasn't the same without Ebony.

Pearl, their mother, had high expectations for Ebony. As did Caster. They both wanted to see their daughter succeed. If she won the Games, then they could be rich again, and live in Victor's Village.

Caster and Pearl were a little ticked off that Ebony ended up being the female tribute. In their opinion, Marina was much more skilled, and better at everything. And their tribute daughter had gone against the rules, Volunteering when she was not the selected Volunteer. Ebony had always been rebellious - in ways more than one.

"From District Four, Ebony Williams, with a score of 9."

Marina scoffed at the screen, fuming. But Dylan smiled to himself. _Ebony's going to come home - I just know it._

* * *

 **Lentz Family (Roy's Family)**

* * *

Rahnya was biting her nails, anxious. Her twin was in the Games, for goodness sake. The home was a gloomy, unwelcoming place now that he was gone. Roy might have been a man of few words, but nothing seemed complete without him.

Worse, at school, everyone didn't mourn for his being Reaped. To the others, he was just a nobody. Nothing was going well for Rahnya.

Robin turned to working more. It was his only solution to his misery. First his wife died, and now Roy was probably going to die, as well. And Dariah was probably going to die of old age soon - she was 68. He tried to tell himself it was just the cycle of life. Death was a natural thing. It happened to everyone. No one was immortal. But no, just thinking that made things worse.

Dariah had stopped smiling so often and no longer could look forward to her grandson coming back from school. It was just Rahnya.

She was depressed - they all were. They just wanted to see him again.

Caesar Flickerman had finished announcing District Four's scores, and Roy was next. When a picture of Roy popped up, Rahnya started to cry. Yes, she was always a sensitive girl, but now she was fragile like glass. She looked as if the wind blew too hard, she'd break. Same went for her personality.

"From District Five, Roy Lentz, with a score of 6."

It was a good score, but they couldn't allow themselves any hope. If they had faith, they would just end up being broken again.

* * *

 **Linnore Surge (Kinsie's Mother)**

* * *

Linnore was a miserable mother. She no longer cared about life, District Five, work, family, friends, or anything in general. She was the parent of two children who got Reaped for the Games. Kinsie would most likely die, like Connor did.

It wasn't fair. _Life_ wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Kinsie was the only family member she had left. Now Linnore was a lone wolf, with no one to turn to.

She had quit her job. She now lived in her bed, seldom getting up for anything. Linnore was slowly turning depressed. Kinsie - her life, love, and joy. Now Kinsie was going to be gone.

Her small TV she had was turned on, but she didn't want to watch; she wanted to listen. If she saw a picture of Kinsie, she'd break and never come back.

Linnore held her breath as Azuria announced, "From District Five, Kinsie, with a score of 6."

Her luck was going to run out anytime soon.

* * *

 **Lindbergh Family (Louis' Family)**

* * *

Amelia held onto the blueprint, sobbing. _Louis, Louis, Louis._ Her son. And he was gone forever.

The blueprint was one of the hovercraft blueprints Louis had designed. Amelia needed to be as close to her son as she could get. After he was Reaped, and after they visited him in the Justice Building, Amelia had immediately went to his "office". She didn't want to throw anything out. Throwing anything out would mean throwing out a piece of her son.

As much as Orville didn't approve of Louis' hobbies, he felt twinges of guilt for his son. Why wasn't he nicer to him? Why didn't he care more? But most of all: _Why wasn't Orville a good father?_

She almost couldn't bear to look at the screen when Azuria started talking about District Six.

"From District Six, Louis Lindbergh, with a score of 4."

Hearing that made Amelia cry harder. What good was a score of 4 against the high score of 10?

* * *

 **Tim Ford (Zoe's Closest Friend)**

* * *

Tim looked at the tiny screen with interest as the District Six Male's score was posted. Of all places to watch the Training Scores being revealed, the best place to do so was the small pub near his hideout. He didn't want to go to the Square to watch, since the Square was near a marketplace where he stole something to previous day; he didn't want anyone to recognize him. Next was Zoe's score.

He knew Zoe quite a bit. He was the closest thing that they could consider as friends. He even had the tiniest crush on her, but that was besides the point. Zoe was a survivor. She could make it out of the arena...couldn't see?

They had met on the streets, for different reasons. Of course, Zoe's reason was that she was thrown out of the orphanage. Tim was a runaway from his family, who had treated him like a slave. But they had one thing in common: They both were desperate and on the streets, willing to do anything to survive.

The two of them weren't even that close, but their friendship steadily grew each year. And despite all the problems, he wanted to be the one person in the District who cared about Zoe.

"From District Six, Zoe Mercedes, with a score of 8."

When Tim finally walked out of the pub, he was smiling. Zoe had got an 8, and she would totally kick-butt in the arena.

* * *

 **Kiefer Page (Rowan's Best Friend)**

* * *

Kiefer tapped his foot against the carpeted floor of his bedroom, getting restless. Next to him, his brother Oliver was staring at the small TV set anxiously.

Their friend Rowan was in the Games. And Kiefer felt absolutely guilty.

He was the one who accidentally hit Rowan's forearm with his axe, causing the 16 year old to get an injury. He had disabled his friend for a short while. And of course, that short while had to be right before the Reapings.

Rowan was Reaped. And he felt like it was his fault.

"From District Seven, Rowan, with a score of 5."

Kiefer couldn't blame his friend for getting the score he did. Though he did have something to do with that forearm injury.

He suddenly had a horrible thought, and it hit him faster than a tornado left a destruction in its wake. What if Rowan died in the Games? And if Rowan's death had something related to the forearm injury, well...

 _I am going to be a murderer, and I'm only 15 years old._

* * *

 **Woodman Family (Celine's Family)**

* * *

Mary and Timone didn't want to admit it. No, no, no. They didn't want to admit it at _all,_ and they didn't want to admit it to themselves _._ But life was going easier, knowing that Celine was off their hands.

It sounded slightly cruel. Their daughter was a bubbly, optimistic, perky 14 year old girl. But now, they had one less mouth to feed, saving them a lot of money. They could go out to work a lot more, and gain even more money.

They had to face it: They missed their daughter, but it was easier without her.

But that didn't mean they didn't love her. Mary still was depressed at nights, lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling in sorrow. She usually cried herself to sleep. Timone was no better. He missed the chatter of his sweet, innocent Celine.

Mary whispered in a sad tone, "I hope she finds an alliance."

Timone smiled tearfully to his wife. It was their only child they were talking about, and their only child was coincidentally Reaped for the Games. Now he knew how all the parents felt when their children was chosen to go into a death match. "I hope so, too, honey. But everything will be okay."  
They lapsed into silence. Mary began thinking. Maybe they could adopt some children, so their house wouldn't be so awkward. And their adopted child could have red hair, just like Celine.

"From District Seven, Celine Woodman, with a score of 7."

They were shocked out of their silence, and they just stared at each other with wide eyes. Timone jumped from the couch and pumped his fist in the air, screaming, "Oh, yeah! In your face, Capitol!"

If a 14 year old girl, who wasn't even employed back in her District, could get a 7, anything was possible. Maybe even Celine winning the Games was possible.

* * *

 **Lara Cotton (Dylan's Best Friend)**

* * *

As hard as it was for Dylan's family, Lara was having the worst of it.

Dylan was only 13. _Only 13 years old._ Did a mere child ever win the Games? She didn't think so. She was usually optimistic and positive, but lately it was becoming harder to do so.

Everyday at Lara's doorstep, she found a new pile of sympathy cards. She found this insulting. Dylan didn't even die - _yet._ As much as he was her friend, Lara knew it would be impossible for him to win.

She threw most of those cards out. No one understood her pain.

But she _had_ kept one.

On the first day with Dylan gone, a card was on her porch. And it was signed, heartfelt, from the _Sequins Family_.

Lara knew the female tribute's last name was _Sequins._ The girl's full name was Azalea Sequins. As Lara's eyes scanned the card, it was explaining how sorry they felt because Dylan was gone. And they were the only ones who could relate, because they had lost someone important to the Games, as well.

She knew the Sequins family. She and Dylan had always liked to visit their store and look at everything on display. They were a nice family. Lara and Dylan had been going there since they were little.

Just remembering old times made Lara tear up. He was a tribute, a pawn on the Capitol's chessboard.

On the chessboard, President Snow was the king. Feared and powerful, he was the most important one.

Lara had zoned out when Caesar was talking about the other tributes, only remembering the memorable ones like the Careers and some outer District high scores. She remembered that the District Six girl had gotten a 8 and the District Seven girl had gotten a 7.

Dylan was next.

"From District Eight, Dylan Tweed, with a score of 4."

Lara shut her eyes in pain and sorrow. The tears couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

 **Sequins Family (Azalea's Family)**

* * *

A dark mood settled over the household. Nothing was bright in their life anymore, with Azalea gone. Even the sun shining couldn't lift the mood. Everything just reminded Nickel and Dressal of their daughter.

Nickel, Azalea's father, remembered how she looked when she was Reaped. Her long, dark hair streaming behind her on her way at the stage. Her eyes trying not to shed their tears as she was up on that stage. It was what he saw every night and every time he closed his eyes. _It's wasn't fair._

A tear slipped down Dressal's face and dripped onto her T-shirt. She was about to see her daughter again, on the TV.

Once the small picture of Azalea popped up on the side of the screen, Dressal wanted so desperately to reach into that TV and hug her daughter. She wanted to embrace her and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn't. It was impossible. Nothing was _possible_ anymore.

"From District Eight, Azalea, with a score of 7."

Nickel and Dressal clutched each other tight. If they let any hope in, it would be their weakness.

They couldn't afford to have weaknesses - not anymore.

* * *

 **Moretti Family (Casimir's Family)**

* * *

Casimir Moretti. Tribute in the 76th Hunger Games. Soon-to-be-dead teen. 15 year old male. Son of Natalie and Michael. Best friend of Camellia Roxen. Brother to Euca and Balthazar. Former brother to Tessa Moretti.

No one in the Moretti house could get over the loss of Tessa. Not just that, but they had to work even _harder_ in order to support themselves. That was saying a lot.

Malnourished and hungry, the Moretti family sat on their ratty old couches in front of their small television set. They wanted nothing more than just to see Casimir again. Casimir - their sweet, optimistic child. He was gone, gone, gone.

Nowadays, a smile was never on Balthazar's face. Euca was constantly crying and miserable, and was starting to get in trouble at school for not paying attention. Natalie and Michael both tried to drown their thoughts working. Their family was a broken family. A family of broken hearts. And no one, not President Snow, not the Capitol, could fix that.

Casimir's score was coming up within seconds. Natalie braced herself for hearing his name again.

"From District Nine, Casimir Moretti, with a score of 4."

 _Casimir. Oh, sweet Casimir._

 _Nothing will ever be the same._

* * *

 **Fields Family (Rosie's Family)**

* * *

Work, sleep, eat, repeat. That was the unofficial schedule for both of Rosie's parents.

Jonas and Basil worked almost 24/7 nowadays, with nothing better to do. Often, they left the triplets at a neighbor's house so they could work more. When Rosie was in District Nine, they never had the problem of finding a babysitter. She was 16 years old and old enough to babysit for them. But now, the 11 year olds couldn't be trusted on their own.

Basil rubbed her eyes tiredly and tried to focus on the diminutive TV set they owned. It had cost a lot - so much that they almost couldn't afford it - but it was definitely worth it.

She felt like falling asleep. She almost _always_ felt like falling asleep. The only two things helping her stay awake was the fact that Rosie's score was next. That, and the way the triplets were making snarky comments on every tribute kept her up.

Jonas was no better. Her poor husband kept blinking fast, trying to stay up.

Basil knew Rosie was next. She almost didn't _want_ to know what Rosie had gotten; if her daughter had gotten a bad score, she could probably cry herself to sleep. The best she could hope for was the Training score of 5. Not particularly a high number, but it was average for outer District tributes. It would be half of what those two Careers had gotten.

Before Basil knew it, her eyes started to close and she started to drift into sleep just as she heard Rosemary's score: "From District Nine, Rosemary Fields, with a score of 6."

* * *

 **Corinth Family (Taurus' Family)**

* * *

Sabby, the eldest of the sisters, tried to explain for the umpteenth time what had happened to Taurus to Varn. Of course, Varn being 6 years old, the 13 year old had to make sure she wasn't saying something super gory.

"Taurus went on a little trip, Varn. I don't think he'll be coming back."

As Sabby said this, she started to tear up. As did Tawny. Poor 11 year old Tawny; she was so attached to Taurus and loved him like a brother, despite them being cousins. Varn was only a young girl, oblivious to what the Hunger Games really was. "So he moved away? To another District?"

Tawny sighed heavily, her eyes still misty. "I guess you could say that."

Sabby sort of envied that Varn didn't know what the Hunger Games was. Even though she'd put two-and-two together in the future, she wanted to protect her from the truth. What would happen if she had just said, " _Taurus is going to die in a deathmatch! And newflash: when you're 12 years old to 18 years old, you might die, too!"_ Nope, _so_ not happening.

She glanced over sadly at Cheryl. Her mother was silently picking out her food she had prepared for dinner; fruits and porridge. Sabby immediately felt worse. However bad she felt, she knew Cheryl was feeling worse. Cheryl had somewhat of an attachment to Taurus, especially since she was the one who took him in when Taurus' mother had died. After all, she was Taurus' mother's sister. But Cheryl had treated him like a son of her own. And now she lost him.

Sabby focused back on the screen as Azuria Barslow finished talking about the District Nine Female's score, which was a 6. Her chest tightened as she immediately knew Taurus was next.

"From District Ten, Taurus Whittaker, with a score of 4."

She sadly shook her head. She didn't want to believe it, but it was true. In her heart she knew that he wasn't coming back home.

* * *

 **Natalie Willows (Casey's Best Friend)**

* * *

As calm and levelheaded Natalie usually was, right now she felt the urge to throw up. She was going to see her best friend, Casey, again - even though, yes, it was through a screen.

But she knew it would hurt. It wouldn't hurt her physically, but it would damage her emotionally beyond repair. Yet inside, Natalie knew she had to be strong. For Casey, and for all the good deeds she had done. For the cows that they both released. For District Ten.

Natalie had not been keeping up with freeing the cows as much as she would have liked to. She knew that Casey would have been proud she had freed any cows at all. But Natalie had only went two times since Casey was taken away in that train, and felt bad about it.

Sitting there on her couch, she made a resolution. If Casey died, in Casey's memory she would free cows every day. Sure, Natalie might be labeled a criminal for doing illegal deeds. But she had to. It wasn't fair how all the animals were treated.

As soon as Azuria began talking about Casey's score, time slowed down and Natalie had a clear mind to think. _I wonder if Casey's father and mother even care about Casey's score right now. I know them. They probably don't care._

If Natalie was Reaped, she would have liked her family to care. Her family _would_ care, of course. And if it meant for Casey to have a better clan, then she would have traded hers in a heartbeat. They were _that_ close - after all, they were childhood friends and had known each other since forever.

"From District Ten, Casey, with a score of 5."

She relaxed back in her chair. That was a good enough score.

But she just couldn't shake the feeling that right now, Casey's parents were probably not even watching the TV.

* * *

 **Minoru Lazarre (Quince's Older Brother)**

* * *

Minoru was at his own house and was eating his dinner, but he paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth once he saw a picture of his little brother on the screen of the Training Scores. _What on Earth? What's Quince doing there?_

Even though he had moved out years ago after a huge fight with his parents over his fiancee, Minoru had never, _ever_ forgotten about his brother. They had a great bond as brothers, only for it to be broken after he moved out.

So was it possible Quince was... _Reaped?_

 _No, impossible._ He chided himself. _If he was Reaped, I would know. Maybe he just looks different than from I last remembered him, and this guy on the screen is just a look-alike._

He hadn't gone to the Reapings this year. He hadn't gone to the Reapings the years he didn't have to. Minoru remembered how relieved he was when he had gone through 7 years without being Reaped. But was it possible that _Quince_ , his kind brother, was _Reaped?_

Azuria opened her mouth to talk about the District Eleven Male, and Minoru leaned closer to listen.

"From District Eleven, Quince, with a score of 7."

 _No! That's crazy. They must have another Quince!_

But there was no denying it: His brother was the District Eleven Male tribute for the Hunger Games.

But the thing that hurt the most was the fact that his family didn't tell him. And with a sinking heart, he knew what the right thing to do was.

He was going to make up, after all these years, with his family.

* * *

 **Seeder (Isobel's Grandmother)**

* * *

Seeder had seen them all. In previous years, she had seen tributes who scored low scores like 1, 2, and 3. She had seen the outer District tributes score 4, 5, 6, 7, and occasionally 8. She had seen Careers score 9 and 10. Now Seeder was wondering what score her granddaughter, Isobel, would get.

She tried to calm herself, but was extremely anxious as to what score she would receive. Seeder was sure she was even more nervous than Isobel was at the moment. Would her granddaughter get a high score? An average score? A low score? Just what would she get?

She didn't know what would happen. Seeder _hated_ when she didn't know what would happen. But she could only hope for the best.

 _You trained Isobel. She'll do fine._

Yet she couldn't stop worrying as Azuria opened her mouth. And, out of her mouth, came the words of an angel. "From District Eleven, Isobel Wild, with a score of 8."

Seeder smiled to herself. Isobel could win.

She believed it in her heart.

* * *

 **Cleo Embers (Lignite's Ex-Girlfriend)**

* * *

Cleo felt a pang in her heart as she stared at Lignite's picture on the screen. Azuria was about to announce his score. Cleo's pang didn't hurt physically. It hurt _emotionally._

Sure, she knew that Lignite lost his entire family in a house fire. It might've been arson, it might've been an accident - she didn't know. But in her mind, it was _not_ an excuse to dump his girlfriend and double-cross all of his friends. It was especially not acceptable to dump his girlfriend when they known each other for all of their childhood.

Cleo loved the old Lignite. The old Lignite was popular, perfect, and not afraid of adventure. He was a daredevil and was quite the jock. He was good-looking and attractive. She hated when the new Lignite emerged behind that facade. He turned into a miserable, moping teen. He cried everyday at school, and she bet he cried every night. His test scores started slipping and be became cold and aloof. Gone was the handsome, to-die-for 18 year old. The new one had replaced him - and permanently.

Well, Lignite didn't consider one thing. She was sure he stopped loving her the moment he dumped her, but there was just a small catch about that. _She never stopped loving him._

Even through all the ups and downs of life, Cleo would be by his side. Even when things were tough, she'd be bearing through the pain right next to him. She hadn't stopped loving him, and she didn't intend to stop now.

"From District Twelve, Lignite Parker, with a score of 6."

Cleo continued to stare at his picture, until it faded into nothingness. Soon, it was replaced by the beautiful face of Delia Montgomery.

She hoped her love for him wouldn't fade.

* * *

 **Montgomery Family (Delia's Family)**

* * *

Roselyn and Anthony sat on their couch, both of them still excited by the fact that their daughter was in the Capitol. Of course, she wouldn't be in there for much longer, as she would be in the arena soon, but they hoped that she was having a good time there.

Roselyn had always wanted to visit the Capitol. She had always found the Capitol as an exciting, bustling city found in the heart of Panem. All of the citizen's appearances were a little extreme and funky, yes, but they had so much more than in the Districts.

Anthony admired President Snow. He liked how Snow kept order in an orderly fashion. Sure, the Districts were a little on the poor side, but it was better than nothing. He wished, though, that he would be able to visit the Capitol just once in his life. It seemed like an excruciatingly fabulous place to be.

Azuria Barslow was sitting behind her desk and had a piece of paper in front of her. A picture of Delia replaced the previous picture of her District partner. Roselyn and Anthony both liked how pretty she looked. They had always liked to say that Delia was the prettiest of them all.

"From District Twelve, Delia Montgomery, with a score of 5."

Roselyn's smile faltered. As did Anthony's.

One thing was very clear to them, and they couldn't get it out of their minds.

Delia was not going to survive the arena.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used - N/A**

* * *

 **Hey again, guys! Sorry for the late update. This chapter was kind of hard to write, because I had to go back and look at everyone's form. But it was worth it. How did you think this chapter turned out? It was a little short, but I did have to fit everyone in.**

 **Standardized testing is still going strong, so sorry about the lack of updates. I'll be faster once it's over!**

 **I hope you are okay with your tribute's score. Which loved one's P.O.V did you like hearing from the best? The least?**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

Alliances -

Careers: Clarence Reiss (leader), Jayda Newell, Vulcan Hardy, Hestia Gabbro, Bay Riverside, Ebony Williams

Alliance #1: Rowan Mattock, Celine Woodman

Alliance #2: Huxley Cathode, Eudora "Dora" Macintosh

Alliance #3: Rosemary "Rosie" Fields, Casimir Moretti, Casey Taurus, Dylan Tweed, Kinsie Surge

Alliance #4: Azalea Sequins, Quince Lazarre, Lignite Parker


	26. Chapter 26 - A Mystery to Be Solved

**Chapter 26 - Posted on ( 4/22/16)**

* * *

 **Primrose Everdeen**

 _ **District 12 Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You've got the words to change a nation,**_

 _ **But you're biting your tongue,**_

 _ **You've spent a lifetime stuck in silence,**_

 _ **Afraid you'll say something wrong."**_

* * *

Prim awoke peacefully in the king-sized bed of her Capitol suite. She wished she could somehow bring her mother and Katniss to where she was now. During the times she got to stay there, she always had the best sleep.

But the tranquil mood was quickly destroyed. She should've known that something bad was going to happen.

There was a note on her nightstand. _To Primrose,_ was scrawled on the envelope. With a sinking heart, she had a gut feeling she knew exactly who had wrote it.

Opening up the envelope, she pulled out the piece of parchment on which the note was so delicately written on. Her brown eyes scanned it hastily. She was not a fast reader, but she zipped through the note in a few seconds.

 _Primrose Everdeen-_

 _The access to my office has been closed, due to it being debauched by smog from the chemistry lab. We ask you to not visit those places. Please proceed with caution._

 _President Snow._

Prim whispered the fact she'd known for all the years she'd been mentoring. "There is no ventilation from the chemistry lab to his office."

* * *

The 14 year old changed from her pajamas to street clothes rapidly, and jammed her feet into a pair of black flats. She had to go see Lynx. Lynx would probably know what to do.

Primrose tied her long, blonde hair into a simple ponytail and left her quarters. Delia, Effie, and Lignite weren't up yet. That was good, so no one would question her absence.

While waiting for the elevator to come up, she thought about what she saw in her head. The envelope with the parchment was firmly clutched in her hand.

Either they didn't want her in the chemistry lab, President Snow's office, or both. But all Prim knew that it was just not possible. Why would they lie to everyone?

Primrose Everdeen wasn't brave, courageous, or adventurous. But if there was one thing she was, it would be that she was curious.

She would find out what this mystery was, and she would get to the bottom of it.

* * *

 **Lynx Maybelle**

 _ **District 10 Victor of the 75th Hunger Games. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Sometimes,**_

 _ **I swear it feels like it's me against the world,**_

 _ **Gotta get up and still fight,**_

 _ **Nothing's gonna stand in my way."**_

* * *

Lynx was quite the early bird. In fact, she couldn't even sleep at all. Having insomnia, she was up during most nights and rarely slept. Lynx considered having insomnia as a good thing. After the Victors' experiences in the Hunger Games, how could they sleep?

Last night Lynx was up watching old Hunger Games tapes. Out of curiosity, she had watched Haymitch Abernathy's. Everytime she was in the Capitol, she heard people talking about Haymitch's win. Prim, the Victor from District Twelve, had also informed her that Haymitch had gone missing. Watching the tape, Lynx had found the force field idea quite interesting, but no doubt he had to pay the price after that. Her motto was: "Nothing in life comes free."

She got up from her bedroom to the kitchen, fixing herself a breakfast. Lynx was hungry, as usual. She sat down at the counter and took a bite of her eggs, but she only managed to eat a little bit before there was a knock on the door.

The rebellious 17 year old sighed. _Interrupted yet again, by the door._ She walked over and wrenched it open. Whoever she was expecting, it wasn't Prim, standing there in an electric blue blouse and navy floral leggings. "Hello." Lynx said in an annoyed tone. She was _hungry,_ for goodness sake. And when she was hungry, she didn't want anyone - or _anything_ \- to mess with her.

The 14 year old ignored her greeting and waved an envelope in the air. "Lynx, you have _got_ to read this!"

Lynx didn't see what the deal was. So there was an envelope. No biggie. She accepted the envelope and pulled out a note that was inside of it. It was from President Snow, just saying that his office would be closed because of fumes from the chemistry lab. When she was done, she looked back up at Prim, and shook her head. "So?"

"There is no ventilation from the chemistry lab to his office." Prim repeated the words she had whispered to herself earlier.

Lynx looked suspicious. "Why would he lie, then?" Then she muttered, "I should've known we can't trust President Snow with anything."

"I don't know." Prim answered truthfully. "He's hiding something in his office or there. Don't you think we should find out?"

Lynx nodded slowly. "I guess. Should our tributes know about it?"

"No. Not until we're completely sure everything's okay."

* * *

 **Casey Taurus**

 _ **District Ten Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **This tug of war can't go on anymore,**_

 _ **Nobody wins from this misery,  
Free, well oh can't you see,  
I wanna be, I want you to be, free."**_

* * *

What Lynx didn't know, was that Casey was quite the early bird as well. In addition to that, she had heard every word of their conversation. Everything from her mentor opening the note to saying there was no ventilation access somewhere.

And after she had heard that the tributes wouldn't know about it, Casey snapped. In the arena, it was a matter of life or death. She was bound to die anyway.

After all, Prim and Lynx were talking fairly loud. If Casey needed an alibi, she could blame it on that reasoning.

The 18 year old opened the door. "Tell us what?" She asked coolly.

The two mentors froze. Lynx spun around on her heel, and stormed over. Lynx opened her mouth, probably to scold Casey for listening in, but Prim nudged her. "We can tell her...right? We need all the help we can get."  
 _Help?_ Casey thought. Then a second thought hit her: _What am I getting myself into?_

The 17 year old sighed. "Alright. If you say so." Then Lynx gestured to Casey. "Sit down. This might be a while."

* * *

Minutes later, Casey's brain was racing with information. In conclusion, President Snow was hiding something and lying to everyone. Prim and Lynx wanted to find out - but it wasn't going to be easy;

"And that's all we know." Prim summed everything up. "It's not much, but it's valuable information. Be sure to remember it, and don't tell anyone. We'll keep you updated."

Casey whispered, "Is there going to be a rebellion?"  
Prim seemed caught off-guard by the question. "I-I'm not sure. As I said, we'll keep you updated."

The District Ten Female remembered previous Hunger Games, filled with blood, tears, and goriness. Then she imagined a much _larger_ arena, with no bounds; the city of Panem. Lives would be lost, families broken, and homes razed.

The Capitol was in control of everything. And if they were about to do anything to the Districts, it would be up to them to stop it.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Primrose Everdeen: "** _ **Read All About It, Part lll**_ " **(sung by** _ **Emeli Sande**_ **)**

 **Lynx Maybelle: "** _ **Miss Understood"**_ **(sung by** _ **Sammy)**_

 **Casey Taurus: "** _ **Free"**_ **(sung by** _ **Haley Reinhart)**_

* * *

 **Here is a break from the tributes with a Capitol update. What do you think?**

 **I don't know why I've been obsessed with Casey the past few chapters. Seriously.**

 **Next will be interviews. It might be a little while, since I have to look at everyone's forms again.**

 **It's almost the arena time! Won't that be amazing? I can't believe I'll be losing 23 P. to write for. All of your tributes are amazing. I hope you're okay with who I chose for the Victor.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	27. Chapter 27 - Interviews Part One

**Chapter 27 - Posted on ( 4/25/16)**

* * *

 **Zoe Mercedes**

 _ **District Six Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Hey baby there ain't no easy way out  
Hey I will stand my ground  
And I won't back down  
No, I won't back down."**_

* * *

Zoe didn't feel so good. She felt... _unhygienic._

From anyone else's point of view, no one knew why she could feel unhygienic in a long, flowing red gown with her hair twisted up into a curly updo. Her feet were forcefully shoved into a pair of golden sandals.

And she didn't like it one bit.

It didn't feel natural to Zoe to wear something formal. All these years living in a poor orphanage and on the streets, she had never gotten anything nice. Nice was all that she ever wanted back home. She would've even just settled for okay. But now that she was in the Capitol, wearing fancy clothes, she just felt dirty.

Luckily, the pain was not as hard to endure as it was during the prep for the Chariot Rides. Another waxing had occurred, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable, as well as scalded. But she was soon soothed by a warm bath.

She, her mentors, and escorts decided that she would go for a mysterious angle, and slightly sarcastic to add a little of accent to the interview. Hopefully, the Capitolites would be pleased with her display. She had gotten an 8 in Training, and in addition to her angle being mysterious/sarcastic, she hoped she would be seen as a strong tribute. She just hoped that Azuria wouldn't inquire her about her life back home. It was somewhat of a touchy subject…

As Zoe waited for Louis to finally be finished with his prepping, she resisted the urge to kick off her sandals. Of course, her prep team and stylist being crazy, her sandals weren't any usual sandals. They had a little heel in the back. She liked how her Chariot Outfit didn't have anything complicated to it, but she had pressed her luck and now she had to stand in this.

She felt like she was being suffocated in her tight dress, which was tighter than ever. It squeezed her muscular frame. Zoe felt like she was about to explode. Other than that, she thought it was nice enough. As she had mentioned before, it was a red gown. It was floor-length and made of the finest silk, as her stylist had stated. It had a golden sash and it came with a shawl, which Zoe hated. It had a cross-back. According to her mentor, it fit her perfectly and really gave that fire-y vibe. The 16 year old was glad she looked dangerous and not weak.

Louis stepped out of his prep room, finally completed his prepping. Zoe thought he looked pretty dashing, for a boy, though she still thought he was extremely annoying. He was wearing a white button-down, with a black vest and dark-colored pants. His shirt was paired with a bowtie. It matched Louis' aura perfectly, as his angle was just to be a nice, polite tribute. He didn't want to bring out any unnecessary attention to himself, rather than to the Careers. Louis didn't want to make any enemies. Of course, Zoe didn't think that way. She wanted all attention to be on her.

Her escort's lips formed into a tight line. "Come. We mustn't be late."

Zoe and Louis might've not thought alike, but they could both agree that their escort was a pessimistic woman who had a half-empty take on the world. They only felt minorly bad for her; her dreams of being a stylist were crushed. But that was not an excuse to act the way she's been acting toward them. Zoe just wanted to tell her to lighten up.

The two teens followed her as she walked them into the escalator, and chose a floor. When the doors slithered open to the correct level, Zoe could see all the present tributes being lined up in the order they would be for the stage. As soon as she stepped off of the elevator floor, with Louis on her heels, a Capitol backstage person directed her to stand in the line. She would be the 11th tribute to be up on the stage. Now she had to tirelessly listen to the tedious performances before her. She sighed heavily.

Looking around, Zoe could see most of the tributes' outfits. The District One pair was all the way up front. The beautiful girl, named Jayda, was clad in a mint green, sleeveless summer dress. It had a low V-neck, and though the dress was pretty, Zoe was glad she wasn't wearing that dress because of it. Jayda was also wearing pearl bracelets, a pearl necklace, and dangling pearl earrings. Her heels were silver stilettos, which looked painful. Her blonde hair was in a French braid, keeping her hair off of her face. The dress itself was very, _very_ short, another reason Zoe didn't want to wear it.

Clarence Reiss, the District One Male, was looking very sharp and dangerous. An aura around him alerted everyone that he was definitely a tribute to look out for; he was cool, level headed, arrogant, and maybe a little cocky. Zoe didn't know how an outfit could make him look like all of those things, but Clarence managed to pull it off. He was in an outfit which looked similar to his Reaping Outfit; a grey suit, a white formal shirt, and brown leather shoes.

Behind Zoe and Louis was the District Seven pair. Celine Woodman, the innocent, sweet 14 year old, was in a frilly light green dress with lilac petticoats. The light green color really complimented her auburn hair. As for Celine's shoes, she was in brown leather slip-on flats. A plain silver bangle dangled from her wrist; she was guessing it was her token. Zoe didn't know the angle she was going for, but if she had to guess, it would probably be sweet and polite, just like Louis'. Looking at her now, Zoe didn't see how this young girl could get a 7 in Training. She didn't look very impressive weapons-wise, so Zoe would be looking forward to seeing her in action.

Rowan Mattock was looking quite well in a black suit with green shamrock shapes all over it. His brown hair was gelled backwards. Rowan's shoes were black, and made of leather. Zoe noted that many male tributes had leather on them at least somewhere.

As she was looking around and admiring the many outfits, time ticked closer to stage time. The minute hand on the clock on the far wall swept with force in a circular motion. Every 60 seconds, it would make another minute go by. In precisely 5 minutes, Jayda would go on the stage and have her time slot. After that, it would be Clarence, Hestia, Vulcan, and so on. It would continue that way until the line reached Zoe and she would be standing in the wings. Then she would be interviewed. Not to be overconfident, but she thought she would do pretty well.

The last of the Districts arrived. The final District to reach backstage was District Nine, as they were slightly rushing. Zoe inspected their outfits as they got into line. The girl, 16 year old Rosemary, was wearing a silver glittery dress. The dress gathered at the waist and poofed out at the ends. She also wore a laurel wreath in her hair, and had laurel bracelets. Her shoes were silver flats. She looked marvelous.

The boy, Casimir, was adorned in a nice, black tuxedo with a pressed white shirt and black tie. His light-colored hair was trimmed slightly and neatly combed. He looked great, as well.

Zoe proceeded to stare straight ahead at the clock. _When the time comes, I'm going to outshine all of you tributes in the interviews. When I'm done, the crowd will be screaming my name and begging for more of Zoe Mercedes._

* * *

 **Azuria Barslow**

 _ **Master of Ceremonies. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What if I back down now,**_

' _ **cause I'm afraid of what might happen,**_

 _ **What if they turn away,**_

 _ **when I show them who I truly am?"**_

* * *

Azuria was not nearly as nervous as she was before about being on stage. She was quite excited to get on, actually, and couldn't wait to see all of the tributes' lovely costumes. Azuria was already seated on the stage, in one of the two love seats, with the curtain down. It would be going up in ten seconds, and then it would be her time to shine. _Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three...two...one!_

Right on cue, the curtains were rolled up, displaying her strapless dark blue gown to the crowd. "Hello, Capitol!" She called with a smile through the microphone. "Are you ready to see all the tributes again?"

The Capitol audience roared its approval, shouting that they were ready.

Azuria repeated the cheesy line that she was trained to do in order to get the crowd louder and even more fired up. "I can't hear you!"

They screamed louder, and Azuria resisted the urge to cover her ears. "Without further ado," She continued after waiting for the crowd to quiet down. "Jayda Newell, from District One!"

Blonde-haired and beautiful, Jayda arose from the backstage portion and stepped up onto the stage with a huge smile, waving at the crowd as she walked on those painful looking stilettos. She stumbled a little on her way to her seat, because of those heels, but no one seemed to notice.

Jayda crossed her legs like a true lady as she sat on the love chair opposite to Azuria. "Hello, Azuria." She purred seductively. Jayda flicked that French braid of hers over her shoulder and smirked lazily at the crowd, making them scream, "We love you, Jayda!"

"You're looking wonderful tonight! Tell me, how do you like your prep team?" Azuria replied, trying her best to sound cheerful and welcoming. It was kind of hard to think right off the top of her head, since Jayda was a bit intimidating.

Jayda glanced out to the crowd, smiling. "They're just _wonderful._ They can really work miracles."

Was it just Azuria, or did she hear a little hint of sarcasm in her voice? Luckily, most of the Capitolites were thick-headed and clueless, so none of them really took notice to that. "What made you want to Volunteer?" The 18 year old questioned her. "Let me guess - fame and fortune?"

Jayda flashed a smile. "Of course. But I also wanted to prove myself to my District. I wanted to prove that a girl can be as strong as any man."

"And _wow,_ a score of 9 for your Training Session! Anything you'd like to say about that?"

"My mentor, Cashmere, helped me to achieve that goal. She's a magnificent woman. I look forward to working with her after I win the Games." Jayda gave a wink to the crowd.

The buzzer rang when the three minutes were up. Those 180 seconds passed quickly, and Jayda's time was over. As she walked backstage again, she blew a kiss, sending the males in the crowd into a frenzy. After they calmed down, Azuria managed to announce through the noise, "Next, give it up for the _fabulous_ Clarence Reiss!"

The said boy strode over to his love seat. He would probably gain sponsors easily; his stride reflected power. He was also attractive and good-looking. Clarence looked like he was both brains and brawns. It would be tricky to defeat him - he was monstrous and muscular.

"Clarence - so nice to see you." The Master of Ceremonies smiled warmly. Azuria blushed a bit at him; she couldn't help it.

The 18 year old male looked unfazed by the crowd chanting his name and he looked totally in control. "Likewise." He replied, in that cocky way of his.

Azuria began the interview. "So, they've been rumors you are the leader of the Career Pack this year. Is that true or false?"

"Very true." He replied simply. "Of course, the leader of the Pack has to be the strongest and wittiest Career, and a Career who has leadership skills. I myself possess all of those traits, and therefore I was appointed leader."

Azuria thought he was being a little full of himself, but she didn't argue. "What are your thoughts on Vulcan Hardy?" She questioned. "He was Reaped, and all of us are wondering if he's in the Pack."

Clarence's eyes showed a flicker of annoyance. "Vulcan deemed himself worthy, of course. Otherwise, he would have not gotten in. He's lucky he proved himself, or else I would've killed him at the Bloodbath." He winked at the crowd, much like Jayda had done. This time, instead of the boys going crazy, it was the girls. Girls of all ages - their ages varied from teenagers to older women.

The same theatrics continued until the three minute time period was over, and next up was the District Two Female.

"Let's give a warm welcome to District Two's Hestia Gabbro!" She exclaimed.

As Hestia strutted from backstage, the crowd _oohed_ and _aahed._ The said Career was dressed in a gray dress, which started light gray from the top of it and dark gray at the bottom. It had a deep neckline, like Jayda's outfit. Hestia's feet were in silver heels and she had on a lot of silver jewelry. Her hair was twisted into an infinity braid bun. As she walked to the stage, she flashed a modest smile at the crowd. It made them go wild.

Hestia took her place in her seat and smiled mysteriously at Azuria. It was like she knew something that the Master of Ceremonies didn't. "Why, hello there, Azuria."

Azuria replied in response. "Welcome, Hestia! May I ask, is that real silver?" She pretended to admire Hestia's jewelry for the cameras.

"Yes, indeed." The 18 year old fingered it. "My stylist is really wonderful. As is my mentor. They prepared me for getting far in the arena."

Azuria liked how she said _getting far in the arena,_ and she didn't say _winning._ That proved Hestia was a modest girl. "Oh, I wish I had silver, too. I'd be rich!" Azuria said, laughing for the cameras once again. THen she resumed. "What's your strategy in the arena?"

The Gabbro pressed her right index finger to her lips. "It's a secret. And if I told you the secret, well then, it wouldn't be much of a secret, now would it?"

Right then, the buzzer went off. Hestia had perfect timing - and she really did play that "mysterious" act well. Her District Partner, Vulcan, was up next. Azuria was eager to hear from him, for he was the Reaped Career.

When he strode to his seat in a cocky manner, Azuria noted that he was wearing a blood red suit, the same color tie, and a white shirt. He also had on black leather shoes. He looked a bit mysterious and dangerous at the same time.

The interview began without a hitch. "Vulcan - it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Vulcan just gave her - and the crowd - a lazy smirk in response. They screamed his name a few times, and Azuria waited patiently for them to quiet down before continuing.

"So I'm just going to get straight to the point, and I'm going to say what everyone has on their minds. Why didn't anyone Volunteer for you?"

Vulcan answered in a prideful tone. "I have narrowed it down to two options. Either the Volunteer chickened out, or everyone thought I was going to win it all, so they didn't _have_ to Volunteer. I prefer the latter better."

The crowd was eating it all up. Azuria knew it was really the first option. She wanted to get off the subject as quickly as possible before Vulcan started telling more lies. "You and Clarence aren't exactly on good terms, are you?"

"We aren't the best of allies, as we have our alikes and differences, just like everyone does. But I still look up to him as a leader, and the authority figure in the Career Pack."

"How did you manage to get into the Pack? Clarence has stated in his interview that you proved yourself. What did he mean by that? And are any outer District tributes in?"

"I'll answer your first question first." Vulcan said. "To prove myself, I went to the tomahawk station, and threw a tomahawk at the target. Can you guess where it landed?"

The crowd called out, "Bull's eye!"

"It landed on the bull's eye." He said proudly. "Clarence couldn't turn down a threat like I, or else I would've been loose in the arena. As for your second question, Clarence had asked several people but they both turned down his request." The crowd gasped at the thought of someone turning down the Careers.

As the buzzer rang, Azuria told him, "Well, our time is up, but I'm sure we'll meet again. Good job on achieving that 10!"

He walked off, and she was interested to see Eudora Macintosh, who would be their first outer District tribute they would be seeing today.

As Vulcan disappeared behind the curtain, a thought struck her. _Out of all of these tributes I'm interviewing, I'll only be interviewing one after the arena - and that will be the Victor._

* * *

 **Eudora "Dora" Williams**

 _ **District Three Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I just wanna make you proud,**_

 _ **I'm never gonna be good enough for you,**_

 _ **I can't stand another fight,**_

 _ **and nothing's alright."**_

* * *

Dora bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for her turn after this Vulcan guy. From what she could see in the wings, she crowd was absolutely adoring him. Hopefully, they could adore her, too.

But of course, Beetee and her escort _didn't_ have faith in her. One night, she heard them speaking in hushed whispers in the hallway.

" _We didn't come up with a better angle for her! Hopefully Huxley will do well - this girl has no hope." Came the escort's voice, carrying clearly through Dora's assigned bedroom door._

" _She's young - doesn't the Capitol always like young tributes?" But Beetee sounded completely uncertain._

Dora wanted to prove them wrong. She promised herself that she would. But, as she waited for her turn, she realized that she was feeling very nervous. Huxley and her were the first outer District they would be seeing, and even more pressure was put on Dora when she took notice that she was the first outer District _tribute_ to go, as well. Time flashed by, and three minutes felt like three seconds, and then it was her time to begin her interview.

Vulcan came back backstage, and Eudora knew she had to go. But her feet were glued to the spot. Luckily, a Capitol man gave her a glare, which gave her the energy to move. She didn't know if it was a 'friendly' glare or a glare saying _get moving, you dumb little girl!_ It was probably the latter.

She took a deep breath and mounted the steps to the stage. Immediately, she was bathed in blinding light. Due to the unexpected brightness, she stumbled a little bit on her way to her seat. But nevertheless, the interviews pushed on.

Azuria turned to her. "You must be Eudora!"

Dora nodded numbly. Her angle she was supposed to play was just being a regular girl next door, but suddenly she couldn't remember anything her escort had taught her! She imagined Beetee facepalming himself as he watched her. She also imagined her escort shaking her head, disappointed.

"So, Eudora, I _love_ your outfit. What do you think about your stylist and prep team?"

Eudora glanced down at her outfit. It was a plum-colored empire waist dress, with no sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. She had a wide belt around her waist, had low-heeled gold sandals, and a necklace with a yellow flower as the pendant. Her dark brown hair was curled like a princess' hair. "They...good." She croaked. She was immediately embarrassed. Her mouth had gone dry, and she cleared her throat to help her along.

"Well, I think they've done a marvelous job on you."

Dora couldn't think straight. Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? Her mind was whirling. Luckily, Azuria moved on to the next subject before Dora had a chance to respond. "So! Did you make any friends here?"

"Well, I made lots of enemies." Dora told the truth. The crowd laughed good naturedly. She wasn't even trying to be funny, though - maybe the crowd thought she was funny! "But I did make one good friend."

"Who, may I ask?" Azuria inquired.

"My District Partner, Huxley. He's really...nice...we're allies." Dora began to stutter a little, and she wiped her sweaty palms on the skirt of her dress. _Only three minutes._ She told herself mentally. _Only three minutes of utter humiliation, embarrassment, and failure._

Azuria asked her next question. "How was your train ride?"

Eudora couldn't think. She blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I like eggs."

Azuria looked utterly confused, but mildly amused.

Luckily, the buzzer rang right then and there. Dora was thankful it was all over. She knew she did a horrible job, but who cared. She would probably die, anyway.

Azuria rose from her love seat and stuck out her hand for a shake. Dora stood, too, and shook hands gingerly. Then, when it was all over, she tried to _run_ backstage - in heeled sandals. Low-heeled sandals, yes, but they still had a heel. She just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Just her luck - she tripped and fell on her face.

On national Panem television.

 _Great._ This was just _great._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Zoe Mercedes: "** _ **I Won't Back Down"**_ **(sung by** _ **Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)**_

 **Azuria Barslow: "** _ **What if I Shine"**_ **(sung by Jordyn Kane)**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh:** " _ **Perfect"**_ **(sung by** _ **Simple Plan)**_

* * *

 **Once again I had to split up the interviews into two parts, and the rest of the tributes you didn't see here, you'll see next chapter.**

 **Thank you for reading, and please tell your friends about this story! Also, do any of you want me to advertise your stories? Tell me in your review if you want a shoutout.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	28. Chapter 28 - Interviews Part Two

**Chapter 28 - Posted on ( 5/2/16)**

* * *

 **Beetee Latier**

 _ **District Three Victor of the 35th Hunger Games. 54 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a little smarter than you**_

 _ **Smarter than you,**_

 _ **smarter than you,**_

 _ **Can't you see I'm smarter?"**_

* * *

Lynx spared Beetee that sideways glance. _That sideways glance_ was reserved for the times she wanted to make someone feel utterly embarrassed. It was usually accompanied with a snarky smirk and a murderous look in her eyes. "I see you've taught your little _Eudora_ impressively."

Beetee sighed. "We tried to come up with something better for her, but nothing was working out." He rubbed his tired eyes wearily, resulting in them looking a bit more bloodshot than before. There was simply nothing he could do about Dora. However, he refused to let Lynx get to him.

However, there were plenty of fish in the sea. As he watched the screen in interest, his very own Huxley Cathode mounted the stage. It was Beetee's only hope that the 13 year old would do better job than Dora did. _I mean, come on. "I like eggs?" Dora can do better than that!_

Beetee, Lynx, Primrose, and all the other mentors were gathered in the District One apartment. Cashmere and Gloss had invited all of them to watch the interviews from there, as they weren't allowed in backstage and all of them didn't want to miss it.

Meanwhile, on the stage, Huxley was looking very dashing for his age, in a "cute little kid" kind of way. He looked very mature, though. He was dressed in a light red suit jacket and dark red suit pants and shirt. To maximize his accessories, he sported a bright yellow tie. Beetee crossed his fingers, which were concealed behind his back. Of course, the 54 year old had found a decent angle for Huxley. Huxley's angle was to be calm and smooth, but from even here Beetee could see he was sweating a little and kept wiping his wet hands on his shirt. He hoped he wouldn't be the laughingstock of the mentors if Huxley did badly.

Azuria looked a bit unsettled after Eudora's display, but continued on with the interviews nevertheless. "Huxley, you are looking so charming today!"

The 13 year old blushed 'charmingly'. "Thank you, Azuria. You're looking quite nice yourself." With that, he sat into his assigned chair. So far, Huxley was off to a good start. But then again, Dora was off to a good start but ended up doing horribly at the ending. There was still a chance for him, though.

"So, Huxley dear, is there anyone special back home you'd like to dedicate your interview to?"

Beetee's tribute looked, nervously, into the camera. "Mom, Dad...I love you two. I want nothing more than to come home to District Three, to be with you. But I'll be seeing you soon." He took a deep, shaky breath and tore his eyes away from the camera to look back to Azuria.

Azuria looked touched. "That was a wonderful speech. Just beautiful. And speaking of District Three, what do you think of your District Partner, Eudora?"

"Well, I call her Dora. But she's really nice. We're allies."

"What qualities did you see in her that made you want to ally?"

"Dora is kind and caring. If I don't win, I want her to. She needs to - she _deserves_ to - go back to District Three." Huxley didn't mention how they bonded after the time in Training when she tripped on the gymnasium floor. He didn't mention how she cheered her up after Dora felt like an utter failure. Dora had mentioned he was the first true friend she had ever made, but that was kind of personal and he didn't want to share it.

The Master of Ceremonies nodded slowly. "Well, I'm glad you're making allies. Your time is up, but I wish you the best in the arena." Huxley nodded and stood, all the while smiling. Before shaking hands with Azuria, he once again wiped his palms onto his suit. Then, he waved merrily and walked off.

 _And..._ Huxley did _not_ trip.

Beetee let out a long, satisfied sigh of relief. He was _not_ going to be the laughingstock of the mentors. Everything was going to be okay. Huxley did fine.

This time, the mentors didn't comment on Eudora's lack of quality. They just remained silent and focused on the TV. Most of the mentors' tributes hadn't been shown yet, so they were anxious. Beetee could relax now.

The last female Career of the day was 17 year old Ebony Williams. Beetee was interested in her performance, since she and her sister had a brawl on their way to be the female tribute. Naturally, Ebony won. She had _also_ got a 9 for her Training score. The Capitol loved the Career tributes, so she would be to their appeal.

Ebony was sporting quite a beautiful outfit. It was a long, black gown that gave a shadowy vibe. Her dress was paired with a pearl necklace, possibly an antique that had been passed down generations. Silver heels donned her feet, and a pearl barrette was in her hair. Ebony's naturally curly hair was straightened and left down. The hairstyle hugged her face and made her look mature, stunning even. She looked striking and gorgeous. She looked like a _true_ Victor. Immediately, all of Beetee's thoughts of Huxley doing good flew out of his brain, as he was awestruck by this girl. Ebony radiated elegance as she strutted to her correct spot.

Azuria smiled. "Ebony Williams? Correct me if I'm wrong."

The blonde nodded, but dismissed the question with a flap of her hand. "Of course. But I wouldn't like to take any of the spotlight off of _you."_ She smiled enigmatically. The crowd was liking her a lot already.

"So, let's get started. What inspired you to Volunteer?" Azuria added as an afterthought, "That was quite the show you made at the Reapings."

Ebony nodded proudly. "My sister had always been the 'better daughter', according to my parents. Marina - that's her name - is 18 years old, and was the chosen Volunteer for this year. Until, I decided that I wanted to make her jealous and make her not go into the Games at all. I decided, at split second, to Volunteer. In addition to her not having a chance to be a tribute, I wanted to make my parents see that there's more to me than that rebellious girl they always had lounging around."

The crowd chanted out her name a few times, but Azuria had to quiet them down so they could press on with the conference. "Did you train hard back home?"

"Yes. I went through an extensive and rigid program."

"What is your preferred weapon?"

"A flail. Marina always used a trident, so I liked to be different than her."

The Capitol gentlewoman acquiesced in understanding. "You are definitely one of a kind, Ebony. One of a kind." The alarm rang off. "Well, unfortunately folks we're out of time, but give it up for Ebony Williams!"

Audience members resumed their chanting, and didn't stop until she was well off the stage and out of sight. Azuria shouted, "Are you liking what you are seeing?"

As the congregation roared their approval, Lynx commented, "She didn't do too bad." Of course, that was the best of a compliment you could ever get out of her.

Finnick looked proud. "As I've been told."

The excitement was not over yet - oh, no, not even close to being over. They still had half of the Districts to go, and many surprises would be along the way. District Four's time to shine was not done, as Bay Riverside still had a chance to give the rest of the tributes a run for their money.

Beetee was starting to doubt his District. Oh, he was starting to agnostic them very much so. Huxley and Dora did appallingly compared to the other Districts - but on the other hand, the other Districts were made up of Career tributes, so they were still in the running.

"Give a warm, warm welcome to District Four's Bay Riverside!"

Immediate screams and shouts of pleasure escaped from the assembly's mouths as the handsome 17 year old came into view. In this case, the 17 year old was Bay. He looked completely chill as he strolled to his love seat wearing a deep, ocean blue suit. He looked simple, but managed to pull off a laid-back look.

He clasped and shook Azuria's hand firmly before settling down in his seat in time for the interview. "You're looking beautiful tonight, Azuria." He said in that deep voice of his.

Azuria blushed crazily. "You're looking quite well yourself."

Meanwhile, Lynx let out a long, low whistle. "District Four produces good-looking tributes."

Finnick rolled his eyes good-naturedly but a smile still remained on his handsome face. "If you say so."

The interview pressed on. Azuria got over her fangirl moment and continued to do what she was paid for. "Bay, how do you like it here in the Capitol? What is your favorite thing here?"

"The Training Center was especially good. All the trainers there were kind, and helpful." The trainers, who were in the crowd, smiled at the compliment. Bay continued, "All in all, this place is fabulous. I'll be looking forward to coming back when I win the Games." He smiled a smile at the cameras, and Beetee couldn't help but notice he had the whitest teeth in the world.

After that, Azuria wrapped it up, and seemed a little disappointed the Career Districts' turns were over. Nevertheless, she continued, though she still seemed a bit shake up from Dora's performance. "Next we have the youngest tribute this year. At 12 years old, welcome Kinsie Surge, the District Five female!"

* * *

 **Roy Lentz**

 _ **District Five Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a survivor (what?)  
I'm not gon' give up (what?)  
I'm not gon' stop (what?)  
I'm gon' work harder (what?)"**_

* * *

Roy didn't care much about Kinsie, but he was interested to see how she would do in her interview. He watched, from the wings, as a Capitol backstage man gave her a signal and she climbed up the steps to the stage. He now had nothing better to do. Behind him was Zoe Mercedes, the District Six Female, but he didn't feel like making small talk. In fact, he didn't feel like talking to _anyone,_ especially not her, since she did taunt Taurus during that one day in Training. He decided the best way to be silent was to keep his eyes straight ahead on the stage at his District Partner. Speaking of Kinsie, she was currently sitting down in the assigned chair where he would also be sitting soon. Azuria was mentally preparing something to say to the 12 year old. Finally, after what felt like hours, she finally spoke up.

"How does it feel to the be youngest tribute in the Games?"

Kinsie responded quickly in an efficient manner. "It's not much different, though I think some older tributes may be underestimating me. I'll show them my true colors once I enter the arena." She smiled snarkily.

She was wearing an off-shoulder yellow and black striped dress with shiny black heels. The heels, specifically, were stewpot sandals with a heel. Kinsie's hair was in a waterfall braid, which was what her stylist described it as. Kinsie loomed like a miniature bumblebee, with all that yellow and black. Roy hoped she wouldn't "sting him with her stinger" once he got into the arena. In other words, he hoped that Kinsie wouldn't go after him at the Bloodbath and kill him.

Azuria seemed impressed by the young girl's backbone. She may have been younger than Huxley, but she seemed more courageous and daring. "I see. I'll be sure to watch you then."

"Of course."

"So, your last name seems kind of familiar. You look alike with another tribute in one of our previous Games. Are you possibly siblings with Conner Surge?"

Kinsie seemed to pause a little before answering. "Yes, I am. I was only a young girl when he was brutally murdered in the Games. Though I was just a small lass, I could remember he was a perfect, kind brother and I wanted to be just like him when I grew up."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear about his passing."

Kinsie's face darkened. "But after he died, it caused problems throughout my family. My mother and father started fighting more and more. I knew that the fights were centered around me. My mother turned fragile and was afraid I would get Reaped, too. My father turned verbally abusive and mean to everyone. Soon enough, they split up. Before I was Reaped it was just me and my mom, together against the world. Now she's husbandless and childless, though she started off with a happy family."

Roy hadn't known about this. He paid close attention to what Kinsie was saying so now he could learn more about her.

He hasn't forgot about that time on the train where she was crying unbelievably hard. She had broken her tough character. None of them had mentioned it to each other, and they were better suited that way. But Roy could now take a guess on what she was crying about that night.

"And that's how a family is broken. Hope, dreams, and Faith is destroyed." Kinsie's strong voice rang out over the silent audience. She seemed much older than the young pre-teen she really was. "If I win the Games, I will take up the oath to mend my family. To stitch the bonds back together. And that, my friends, is what I will do if I win the 76th Annual Hunger Games."

The buzzer rang, and the audience took another moment of silence before they started screaming and shouting noisily, generally causing a ruckus. There would definitely be sponsors for Kinsie.

Bad news was, it was Roy's turn now. He nervously rocked back and forth on his heels. It was a habit he picked up that could calm himself. As Kinsie began slowly walking backstage, he thought about everything he had learned in preparation for this and attempted to convince himself that he wasn't going to do horrible and get thrown tomatoes at. He ran through his script again in his head. Roy would try to be elusive, sly, and mysterious, but he would also try to smile all the way. He gulped. Smiling would be the hard part. After all, most of his smiles looked fake.

Did he look presentable enough for the cameras? He looked down at his outfit. _Check._ Roy's stylist had dressed him in a black blazer and black pants, with a formal blue shirt and black leather dress shoes. His hair was spiked up with gel.

Speaking of the cameras, he was almost on. Kinsie disappeared into backstage and Roy mentally cursed a "pleasant" word choice in his brain. This would be televised across Panem. What if he messed up horribly?

Well, no time to doubt now. The same Capitol man signaled him on. Roy took a deep breath, filling up his lungs with nervous air, before walking up onto the stage's wooden floors. The spotlight shone into his light blue eyes, and he resisted the urge to run off the stage in a panic. He squinted his eyes uncomfortably, clearly not enjoying being in the limelight. Unfortunately, as the backstage crew always said, _the show must go on._ He forced himself to steer his way into his assigned spot.

Azuria grinned brightly at him. "You must be Roy Lentz. I've heard so much about you."

Roy was surprised to see she wasn't much older than he was. Maybe two or three years older at the most. He snapped himself out of his partially nervous and scared state. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Azuria."

She began the question-asking right on. "If you didn't win the Hunger Games, who would you want to win instead?"

He hesitated. That was a hard question.

During his time in the Capitol and on the train, he promised himself he wouldn't become attached. That he wouldn't learn to become friends with someone who'd die in the arena. Fate was cruel that way. And know he'd have to bear his burden.

"I would want Kinsie to win."

Azuria seemed a bit put-off by his answer. She'd always thought of him as a boy who was guarded and had boundaries. "Your District Partner?"

Roy nodded, startled by his own answer. He didn't expect himself to enjoy Kinsie's company so much. After that night on the train, he had understood she was not a rebellious pre-teen for the fun of it. She had a family - a family she wanted to reunite. Kinsie was just a scared girl who needed a home.

The camera feed cut back to Kinsie's face, who was looking as surprised as he felt. Roy didn't even know that he cared _that_ much about her.

He tried to explain himself, so the silence wouldn't be so awkward. "Um...she's nice. And after hearing that speech of hers a few minutes ago, I knew if I had the option, I'd let her go back to District Five to mend those bonds."

Azuria nodded. She moved onto another subject. "So, do you have any allies?"

"No. I prefer to work alone."

"Oh? Is there any reason you prefer that?"

 _Great._ Roy didn't plan on opening up about his backstory. Blame Azuria for being such a prodding interviewer. But he had no choice. He weighed his options on an imaginary scale. On one hand, it was to ignore the question and just say that he always liked it that way. On the other hand, he could open up and earn sponsors. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, trying to make the decision. He finally decided on opening up about his past. Once he opened his eyes yet again, Azuria seemed to notice his discomfort and was staring at him in concern. Roy ignored it and began talking.

"Once, in District Five, there was a really bad disease going around. And...unfortunately...my mom and my grandmother caught it." He blinked back tears, thinking about his caring, kind mother. "My mom died, but my father had the money to buy a cure for my grandmother. And fortunately, she survived."

Some emotional audience attendees were starting to weep in sympathy. The Capitol was always very dramatic.

Azuria leaned forward in her chair, anticipating what was going to happen next. The rest of the crowd found themselves doing the same action.

"The bad thing that came out of it, was that we lost most of our money on that cure. We became poor. We suffered, and starved." Roy paused for effect.

"By 'we', who do you mean?" Azuria took the pause as a chance to understand him better.

"My twin sister, my father, and of course, my grandmother." Roy continued on after answering her question. "My twin sister and I had to find a way to make money as quick as possible. And we found a job that paid." He didn't give specifics on that one. If he elaborated too much, then if he won the Games he might get in trouble with the Peacekeepers back in the District for selling illegal arms.

"But you've found a way to work around your problems, did you not?"

Roy nodded. "Eventually our father landed another job, which was more steady than before and made more money. Since we had to drop out of school before, we were enrolled back in, and all was well."

The buzzer rang, signalling that his interview was over. Roy let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. It was finished in a flash. His interview was so fast, that it only felt like three seconds instead of three minutes.

Azuria stood up and smoothed out her dress before addressing the audience and the cameras. "That's all the time we have for Roy Lentz. How about a round of applause?"

The noise was deafeningly loud, and cheers were being acclaimed. Roy smiled brightly, knowing it was for him. Back home, he was pretty much a no one. Not a single being noticed him. But now, in the Capitol, he was being noticed. He started to feel good about himself.

Roy exited backstage, and immediately began smiling to himself again. In his opinion, he had done well, and it was over. Now he could sit back, relax, and hopefully be able to get sponsors rolling in.

* * *

 **Primrose Everdeen**

 _ **District Twelve's Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You've got the words to change a nation,**_

 _ **But you're biting your tongue,**_

 _ **You've spent a lifetime stuck in silence,**_

 _ **Afraid you'll say something wrong."**_

* * *

Prim looked at Lynx. "All these tributes are doing so good." She said, out of nervousness. She was nervous for Lignite. Not Delia. Delia had the looks of a supermodel, and had a regal air around her. But Lignite was a tough guy to try to coach.

Lynx snorted. "With the exception of Eudora." The 17 year old told Prim in a low tone, just quiet enough that Beetee wouldn't hear the two of them gossiping.

Both of them turned their attention back to the screen. The District Six Female, Zoe Mercedes, would be going on next. She was one of the Capitol's favorites; Zoe was popular for her actions at the Reapings and for getting an outer-District high score.

Speaking of Zoe, she was currently sashaying toward her assigned seat in a sassy manner. Of course, all the males in the audience were staring at her long, lithe legs which carried her toward Azuria.

She smiled snarkily at the 18 year old, who was only two years older than she. "So. You must be Azuria. I've heard so much about you." She pretended to look around the bit. "So you've grew up in the Capitol? It's so _amazing_ here."  
Prim and Lynx exchanged looks. Zoe had the incredible nerve to have some hidden sarcasm in her voice, underneath all of that sticky-sweetness. She might make herself a target of President Snow if she kept going on this tangent.

Finnick chimed into the two girls' silent conversation with a worried tone. "If she keeps this up and the Gamemakers notice, they might target her in the arena. If she wins, forget it. They'll make District Six pay."

"Or, what if the President notices?" Seeder added. "That'll be worse. They'll probably kill her right off the bat."

Johanna spoke up. "It's an interesting tactic for a tribute itself to start off the interview. Azuria usually starts it off. Let's see what Azuria does."

With their attention yet again fixed on the screen, the Master of Ceremonies answered. "Thank you for the wonderful compliment, Zoe. The Capitol _is_ an amazing place indeed to be. Yes, I did grow up here." Azuria said in an _obviously_ tone. Though her tone was calm, her expression looked troubled. _So she noticed about Zoe's sarcasm,_ Prim thought to herself.

Azuria opened her mouth, probably to ask a question and to take charge, but Zoe beat her to the punch. "Are you going to ask about my backstory?" Without an answer, she began to discuss about it. "My parents died when I was young, so I was sent to an orphanage. But then I was kicked out, so I lived on the streets. Nothing else much to say."

The interview went on like that for the rest of the time. Finally, when the buzzer set off, Azuria had never looked more relieved to finally had finished. "Ladies and gentlemen, this was Zoe Mercedes."

Lynx laughed in cynical manner. "At least she has the looks." That was her way of implying Zoe was probably not get any sponsors depending on her interview alone.

They had a break from snide tributes who liked to test Azuria's limits when Louis Lindbergh came out. The mass encouraged him on, for they had an immediate liking to shy, sweet tributes.

Louis smiled bashfully at Azuria once she shook hands with him. Once she asked him what he thought of Zoe, his answer was immediate. "She's really something else. Zoe can be really nice in a mean way, but really mean in a nice way. Do you know what I mean?"

Azuria nodded in understanding. "So you have mixed feelings about her."

"Yeah. She can be kind but also a bit...ruly. It's like the good and bad all rolled into one."

The next question was asking what interested him, back home in District Six. Louis' eyes widened in excitement, for he was able to share his interests. "I _love_ hovercrafts." He confessed. "One day, I will be the first man to fly in the Districts. Just wait and see."

When the buzzer rang, Azuria seemed almost disappointed to end the interview. He was a nice boy. But unfortunately, Louis' time was up. She concluded the interview, and called Celine Woodman, the District Seven Female, onto the stage.

Prim was excited to watch this one. Celine was a cute little girl, according to Blight. But how could a cute little girl get a 7 in Training? Hopefully Celine would touch on that subject, as she was eager to know.

The redhead came out, dressed in lilac petticoats. She looked like an innocent, young teen, but then again, nobody ever knew if it was just an act. She smiled politely to Azuria. The 14 year old had apparently decided to go for the friendly angle.

Azuria embraced the girl as she approached. "Celine - so nice to finally meet you!"

Celine smiled yet again. "Same here." Then she said cordially, "Your dress is beautiful. It looks so nice on you."

"Why, thank you! You look absolutely gorgeous as well."

* * *

 **Celine Woodman**

 _ **District Seven Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Does that make me crazy?**_

 _ **Possibly."**_

* * *

Celine tried to be as polite as possible. She waited for Azuria to say something else, for she didn't want to mess up and say the wrong thing. Celine looked straight into the cameras and gave it a gracious grin, for she knew her parents were probably watching and they wanted to see she was okay.

Azuria did change the subject. "So, _wow,_ a 7! How did you get such a high score?"

The 14 year old was slightly uncertain on what to say. Johanna had told her to play an 'innocent' angle, but how do you respond innocently to that question? Bad timing. Annette popped into her head.

 _Tell them it was your imaginary friend that helped you out._

Celine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If she said it was her imaginary friend, everyone would probably think she was a weird freak. She couldn't tell them about Annette. However, she went on her own terms and said whatever she felt was natural. "I learned a lot of skills, weapon-wise and survival-wise, at Training. I applied all of those very skills to my Private Session, and I was able to earn a high score."

"Who do you think is the biggest threat in the Games?"

She thought about it. "Either Clarence, Vulcan, Zoe, or Jayda. I've seen them all at Training. They're all really dangerous."

Azuria nodded. "What is your opinion on your chance of winning the Games?"

Celine looked troubled. "The odds are fairly slim. They're many tributes who are worthy and deserve to go home, not me. They have families to return to and Districts to make proud. I don't think I'll have much of a chance."

"Well, with a 7, I think you'll at least survive the Bloodbath." Azuria smiled at her, with those pearly white teeth of hers.

Celine didn't think that anyone else, besides her parents and Rowan, had faith in her. She was happy to see that Azuria had her back as well. "Thank you!" She beamed.

Azuria asked several more questions, such as if she had anyone special back home or what she would do if she won the Games. Celine answered them honestly, but it was a bit hard to concentrate when Annette was popping in with unhelpful comments inside of her head.

At last, time was up and Celine's 180 seconds were over with. She was sent off the stage amidst all of the cheers when her interview was complete, and even as she was backstage she still had a humongous smile present on her face. She had done great.

But would the interview really count when she was in the arena?

* * *

 **Woodman Family (Celine's Family)**

* * *

Timone and Mary were very, very pleased at their daughter's presentation. Both of the parents were still very proud of Celine's mighty score of a 7, and even more proud of how her interview had turned out. The next interviewee was Rowan Mattock, Celine's District Partner. The two adults didn't know much about him, but they hoped he was being nice to Celine.

Rowan stepped out from backstage in that shamrock suit of his, and the audience members began clapping and cheering for him. He took an awkward bow. Timone and Mary both had to laugh good naturedly about how uncomfortable he looked.

Azuria was really a good interviewer. She made Rowan feel right at home, right away. "Come on, Rowan." She called, patting the seat next to you. With a friendly smile, she added, "You don't have to bow anymore."

The crowd laughed pleasantly, and Rowan joined them. He gave an embarrassed smile when he was done guffawing at himself. "Sorry. I'm not very used to being on television."

Azuria smiled at him. "I don't think any of the tributes had been on TV before they were tributes." Then she jumped straight onto the bandwagon of asking questions. "Has it been hard in Training, because of your arm injury?"

"Yes. I can't really hold a weapon properly with his arm." He pointed to the arm with the injury. "But I picked up on a lot of survival skills, that I never learned before."

"Well, I think you're ready for the Games."

Rowan stroked his chin. "I'm not sure. I _do_ have a good ally, but…" His voice trailed off. Mary knew what he was thinking: Rowan was thinking he had no chance if he was up against a Career.

"I'm sure we're all dying to know how your ally is." Azuria prodded for Rowan to tell Panem who he allied with.

"Celine, my District Partner. She's really nice, and really funny. Celine is good company and we try to have the most of fun we can together before one of us dies."

Mary and Timone exchanged wide-eyed stares. Celine Woodman - _their_ Celine Woodman - had allied with Rowan?

Timone was the first to break the silence. They just had kept staring at each other, slack jawed, not even paying attention to the TV. "So, what Rowan is saying, is that _Celine_ has an _ally?"_

Mary bobbed her head up and down in agreement, though she was still in disbelief. Then the tears came. "My baby has an ally. She got a 7 in Training. She might come home!" She sobbed in glee and joy.

The two of them began screaming in happiness, but soon settled down to watch the remaining part of Rowan's interview.

Rowan was talking about how he had got his forearm injury, which involved something about an axe hitting his arm. The 16 year old explained how it was really an accident. "My friend didn't mean it. I just wish I wasn't Reaped this year. I'm not sure how I can get far in the Games with the injury."

His interview was soon over. Mary and Timone watched carefully as the District Eight Female - Azalea Sequins - was called up to the stage. During the course of the tributes, Azalea never really had stood out to the both of them, but now it was her time to shine.

As Azalea was walking to the stage, Mary admired the outfit that the 16 year old was in: a pink, skater dress covered in sequins for her namesake. To accent, she was wearing golden high heels, and her brown, straight hair was left down but a lot of time had been invested into it, for it was combed until the point where it was smooth and silky. Timone didn't pay attention to the outfit, for he was not a man who cared much about fashion. Sure, it looked nice on her, but he cared more about the interview itself than the clothes the people were wearing.

Azalea appeared to smile shyly before sitting down in her seat. Azuria didn't waste any time. "Azalea! I love your dress. Is it covered in sequins because of your namesake?"

The District Eight Female smiled anxiously and nodded, looking very nervous. "Y-yes. My stylist thought it would make a nice impression."

Azuria smoothly changed the subject. "So, a 7 in Training! That's a pretty high score."

"Thank you." Azalea responded politely, not knowing what else to say.

"What is your preferred weapon? Anything in particular?"

"Well...a stiletto knife works well for me. I also like to use a shield."

"What are your thoughts on your District Partner?"

Mary's mind raced to think of who the District Eight Male was. Then she remembered. It was that young boy named Dylan. He was only 12 or 13. He was too young to go into the arena, in her opinion. The Capitol was cruel that way.

Azalea looked sad. "Dylan's really, really nice. I wish it didn't have to be this way. Though I didn't ally with him, I'll try my best to get him out of the arena alive, and not in a box."

When the interview was over, Mary and Timone both agreed that Azalea seemed nice enough. She still didn't stand out a lot, but she seemed like a strong contender, her getting that 7 in Training and all.

Dylan Tweed, the one they had been waiting for, was next. He seemed like a cute little boy at first glance, but if you looked closely you could see that there was something about him that didn't really click. It was like he was hiding something. Mary once again focused on his outfit: a navy blue striped suit with his hair spiked up. He looked very likable. The two Woodman parents both knew that the older Capitol women who were suckers for young tributes would probably sponsor him depending solely on his appearance alone.

He crossed the stage and sat in his seat. He smiled and waved at the cameras. "Hi, Mom!"

Everyone laughed from Dylan's humor, and Timone and Mary found themselves doing so as well. Timone slapped his knee. "That kid is _funny_!"

Azuria concluded her laughter. "So, Dylan, who else is in your family, besides your mother? Do you have any siblings?"

Dylan shook his head no. "Nah. I have a dad, though - he's really nice. If you met him, I think you'd like him. But I do have two close friends who seem like siblings to me."

Azuria nodded. "So, what was your favorite part about the Capitol?"

"Everything! I also liked Training, but I also love all of you guys." Dylan waved his hands at the audience. They cheered loudly at the compliment, but quieted down quickly, wanting to hear the rest of the interview.

"Is there any special reason you enjoyed Training?"  
"Well...I made allies."

"Who, if I may ask?"

Dylan smiled mysteriously. "You'll find out tomorrow," He said, referring to the start of the Hunger Games, which was going to be the following day.

Azuria groaned in mock hurt. "If you insist."

His interview ended soon after that, and at the end he got one of the biggest applauses that night. Mary would want him to win, if Celine didn't. But of course, she knew where her priorities lie.

Right now, Celine was an a roll. Timone and Mary hoped nothing would stop her.

* * *

 **Cleo Embers**

 _ **Lignite's Ex-Girlfriend. 18 years old.**_

* * *

Cleo hated how District Twelve was always last, in _everything._ Compared to the Districts, there were one of the poorest. Their tributes always seemed to die in the Bloodbath. In this case, District Twelve was the last District in the interviews. Now she had to sit through, and watch, all the other interviews before getting to Lignite's, which was the very last one.

She still loved Lignite, of course. She still wanted to show him support in the arena, no matter if he came back home or not. No matter how much the school had shunned him out in the past, she wanted to be the one to help him in his crisis.

It wasn't her choice to break up with him.

Cleo looked at the screen and watched as Azuria, the Master of Ceremonies, called Rosemary Fields forward. As the said girl walked in from backstage, Cleo observed her outfit: a silver, glittery dress with a gathered waist, and the skirt of the dress poofed out at the ends; silver heels, a silver tiara, and her hair in a fishtail braid over her shoulder. She looked like a princess.

"Rosemary!" Azuria said to her in a bouncy, excited way. "So nice to see you."

Rosemary seemed a bit shy. "Please, call me Rosie." She said, all the while extending her hand for a shake.

They sat down in their love seats after a while. Azuria asked the first question. "You got a 6 in Training - a relatively high score for an outlying District Tribute. Would you like to share with us how you got it?"

"Well, back home in District Nine, I went to a herbal school for medicine. When I got to the Capitol and we got in Training, I realized there was so much I didn't learn yet. I got to completely master the skill, with the help of you trainers, and I applied it to my Private Session." Rosie concluded. Her eyes had a faraway view, as if reminiscing about District Nine.

"Was herbal school expensive?"

Rosie shook her head. "Not _that_ expensive. Not many people go there, as it wasn't very popular, so their rates were low. However, it was kind of expensive for my family. My parents weren't very rich."

"So, what's your motivation to win?"

"If I go back to District Nine, I'd love to move my family into a bigger house and get them a more luxurious, promising household that they most definitely deserve."

The buzzer went off, so Casimir Moretti was next. As Casimir walked to the stage, Cleo noted that he looked like a sweet little 15 year old. He was wearing a nice black tux, with a pressed white shirt and black tie. His hair was trimmed and neatly trimmed. However, he looked nervous as ever. Maybe he had stage fright.

Azuria, bless her soul, helped him right away. "Casimir, focus on me. Not the crowd or the cameras." She instructed him once he sat down, looking fidgety.

Casimir took a few deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut. Soon, he opened them again. "I'm ready."

"Okay - that's a start." Azuria nodded in approval. Then she began the question-asking. "What are your thoughts about being up against the Careers? Are you nervous, or do you feel like you can do it?"

The cameras cut to the Careers backstage, who were looking as if they would become furious if he said he could possibly beat him.

Casimir responded, "N-no, I don't think I-I could stand a chance against them. They're all so powerful, and...s-strong. I think they have the best chance of winning." _Unfortunately._

The cameras zoomed back in on him.

Azuria smoothly transitioned from subject to subject. "On another note, how far do you believe you will make it in the arena?"

"Maybe past the Bloodbath - I'm not sure." Casimir confessed. "But I do have allies that will protect me. Rosie, Casey, Kinsie, and Dylan are my allies."

 _Kinsie?_ Cleo asked herself in her head. _How could sweet people like Dylan ally with_ Kinsie?

Azuria was as shocked as Cleo felt. "Kinsie Surge?"

Casimir nodded, though he looked on the troubled side. Maybe he didn't trust Kinsie, either. After all, she was a spitfire who worked on her own terms. "Yeah."

Azuria asked a few more questions, lightening up the last bits of stage fright Casimir felt. By the end, the audience was roaring with laughter at every joke the 15 year old said. He was back to his optimistic self. He was definitely a crowd favorite - and he would get plenty of sponsors.

Next, was Casey Taurus, the District Ten Female. Cleo knew that the Capitol would probably love how she and her District Partner had matching names, in a way. Taurus and Taurus. They would probably get sponsors on that sole reason alone.

Another reason she would probably get sponsored was because of her looks. Casey was dressed in a white sleeved, lace dress that went down to her mid-thighs. It hugged her curves, and made her look extremely pretty. To accessorize, she had golden stilettos and a golden rose hair clip. Casey looked striking.

Azuria was pleased and eager to greet her. "Casey! You're looking stunning."

Casey smiled, quite humbly. "Same goes for you, Azuria." She complimented, looking at Azuria's beautiful blue gown.

The two both sat into their cathedras, and got comfortable. Azuria began to cross-examine Casey and gave her the third degree. "So, I hear you have achieved a 5 in Training. Congratulations!"

"Why, thank you." The 18 year old smiled sweetly.

"What did you do to obtain that score?"

Casey responded without hesitation. "I tried my very hardest and worked to the best of my ability. My lesson learned is to never give up, and you'll get there eventually."

Azuria continued. "A little bird told me that you are allies with him. True or false?"

Casey seemed a bit confused for a second, but quickly regained her senses and let out a playful laugh. "Oh, you mean Casimir? Yes, it's true. I'm allied with the District Nine pair, Kinsie, and Dylan. All four of them are extremely nice."

Azuria nodded and smiled. "Yes, I've had the pleasure to meet them already. Who do you think is the strongest of the alliance?"

"Well, I'd say Rosie or Kinsie. Rosie is sweet, but can be really strong with a bow in hand, and she can heal well. Kinsie is brave and courageous. Really, both of them are really strong in their own way. Rosie is the brains and Kinsie is the brawns."

Cleo had to admit, Casey was quite an interesting person. She watched a few minutes longer as she was asked more questions, and she was quite sad to see her time was up. Next was Taurus Whittaker.

 _This ought to be interesting._ Taurus was the one who had that breakdown at the District Ten Reapings. He better not have a breakdown during his interview, though. Or else the Capitol might view him as weak. Not to mention the thousands of families watching across the country of Panem.

Cleo's eyes were immediately drawn to Taurus as he walked across the stage. Hoots and hollers rippled across the Capitol audience who were watching in person. Why? Because Taurus was keeping up with the minotaur theme; he was dressed in a leather suit, fake horns, faux septum, and brown dressy shoes. She felt partially sorry for him, but at least he wasn't wearing nothing but coal dust streaked on him. Now he felt District Twelve's pain.

Azuria complimented his outfit straight away. "I love the minotaur theme. It looks great on you!"

Taurus looked a bit pained as he glanced down yet again at his costume, but he kept his smile steady. "Thanks. Hopefully no pretty girls anywhere notice me!"

Everyone laughed at his joke, including Cleo. Soon, Azuria advanced to the second part of the conference. "So, Taurus, what are your thoughts on your District Partner? Some people like to refer to you both as 'Taurus and Taurus'."

The Whittaker boy let out a soft, gentle laugh. "Casey's pretty nice to me. I never met her before we were tributes, so I am glad to have met her."

When Azuria asked him about relatives back home, Taurus looked a bit pained again. His eyes clouded over with sadness, sorrow, and loss. Nevertheless, he kept going. "My mother died," His voice broke, but he went on, "when I was a young boy. I didn't really know my father."

Azuria's expression softened. "Did you live on the streets, then?"

Taurus disagreed by shaking his head. "No. I actually got taken in by my Aunt Cheryl. She's been a good replacement, but it hasn't been the same."

Cleo felt kind of bad for the kid. All he wanted was just a home and to fit in. She hoped the crowd realized that. She kind of wanted him to make it far in the arena.

Just before the buzzer rang, moments later, the Master of Ceremonies asked, "Do you have any advice for future tributes?"

Taurus nodded. "My advice is that no matter how strong, brave, shy, or weak you are, you just have to keep going. Push through the pain and suffering. You can do it - I know you can."

Azuria wiped away a pretend tear. "That was lovely advice, Taurus."

"Thank you. I am so honored to meet you this night."

His time was up, so he travelled backstage once more. The latterly tribute up next was Isobel Wild, also known as Seeder's granddaughter. Cleo wondered what it would be like, to be a Victor's relative in the Games. She was almost certain Isobel's Reapings were rigged. The 18 year old felt bad for her and her family.

Isobel looked somewhat like a girly-girl. She was stuffed into a poofy pink dress with pink high heels, and her dark hair was pulled back by the same color headband. She looked quite charming, and really pulled off the 'sweet' look. Isobel glided towards her seat, and gave Azuria a friendly hug before sitting down.

"So, Isobel, what was your favorite thing about the Capitol?"

Isobel smiled brightly, and contemplated about the question. Finally, she responded, "All of you guys, of course. You provided such wonderful entertainment, food, and supplies. Everyone here is awfully generous. I had such a great time here!"

The Capitol audience screamed and yelled their approval. Cleo, however, thought she saw a glint of fiction in Isobel's eyes. If Isobel was lying, which was most likely, she was doing a good job of it.

Isobel was next inquired if she was trained back in District Eleven if she ever got Reaped. Her answer was: "Yes, my grandmother taught me her secrets and trades from when she was in the arena. For that I thank her. Without her help I wouldn't have gotten an 8!"

Azuria smiled, happy for her. "So, did you live in Victor's Village back home?"

"Better believe it. It was an amazing experience living there. You could have everything a girl in District Eleven could desire!" She exclaimed, earning a laugh from the crowd.

Her humorous performance ended once the alarm signaled her time up, so she hopped back to backstage so she could relax in relief that it was over.

The next tribute on was Quince Lazarre, the second-to-last male that they would be seeing that evening. As he walked to his seat, he looked incredibly dashing in a black, formal suit that had two buttons buttoned up but the rest open. To make it look more casual, he had a deep purple polo shirt underneath, with his hair mostly combed and slicked back. He strided to his correct spot, the picture of innocence.

He smiled warmly at Azuria. "Hello." Quince said smoothly in his deep, 18 year old voice.

She greeted him back with a handshake. "Nice to finally meet you! Tell me, how have things been going back home before you were Reaped?"

Cleo watched the screen as Quince hesitated. Soon, he gathered his senses to respond. "My family hasn't been the best in the world, but we were doing pretty okay, I think."

Azuria's eyes grew as wide as an owl's. "Was it financial problems?"

Quince frowned. "Partially, I guess. We weren't the richest people around. But it was mostly since my brother moved out, after a fight with my parents over his fiancee. That was a long time ago, but I still miss him. He was a really nice brother, but now he's been sort of neglecting our family."

"Who is your favorite relative?"

Quince's eyebrows knit together. "I don't really want to play favorites, but one of my favorite relatives is my younger sister. She's really sweet, and kind. If you'd see her, you'd enjoy her company as well."

"I'm sure I would. You're very lucky - I don't have any siblings."

The two continued talking for a little, and Azuria brought up another subject. "Quince, do you consider yourself a likable person?"

"I suppose. Back in the District, I tried to help out everyone as much as I possibly could. After all, my parents always said that if you do good deeds, people will remember you when you die."

Azuria told him, "You are most definitely going to be remembered by us, Quince. By 'us', I mean the Capitol. You are an amazing person. Don't let your talents go to waste." She winked secretively at him.

Before he could ask what she meant, the buzzer rang and he was sent to backstage. A lump formed in Cleo's throat as she realized, in approximately three minutes, she would be seeing Lignite around. But first, she had to get through this next interview. The next interviewee was the District Twelve Female, Delia Montgomery. Cleo had never seen her around the District before but she seemed like an okay person. Judging from the way she acted when she was Reaped, she didn't seem like a person to mess with.

A hush fell over the crowd as the beautiful Delia emerged from backstage and pranced toward her seat. Again, the males of all ages in the crowd were staring at her long, hair-free legs, which flashed underneath her dress. Speaking of her dress, it was a black and red short dress that poofed around her mid thigh with a hoop skirt. It was sleeveless. Her hair was curled and otherwise left untouched. Her makeup was severely, and heavily, piled onto her face to match the 'flirty' angle she was supposed to be acting. Cleo was immediately jealous of Delia's looks. Even though when Lignite and her were dating he told her everyday that she was the most beautiful girl in Panem, she knew she didn't compare to what Delia looked like. Cleo tossed her dark halo of ringlets over her shoulder and tried to concentrate. _Now is not the time to get jealous of other girls._

Delia smiled flirtatiously and winked at everyone in the crowd, making some people throw flowers at her. She caught one, kissed it, and threw it back into the crowd. When a teenage boy caught it, he seemed really happy.

Finally, the interview could get started for real. Azuria first complimented her on her clothes, makeup, and her appearance in general. Delia smiled at each admiration Azuria made and acted bashful, like it was no big deal. Finally, the interesting questions rolled around when Azuria commented, "The Capitol is wonderful, is it not?"

Delia nodded, happy to get a chance to finally jump in. "I know! It's amazing and beautiful here. All the people are so nice and kind. I always wanted to visit here, ever since I was a little girl, and now that I'm finally here I'm so excited. I would love to come back if I win the Games."

Azuria raised an eyebrow. "You say 'if'. Do you not have faith in yourself to win the 76th Annual Hunger Games?"

"Well, I'll sure try, but a lot of people have a better chance than me. Take the Careers, for example. They got solid scores of 10s and 9s." She laughed quite bitterly. "I only got a 5."

Azuria said, "Well, try not to put yourself down. I'm sure you'll get many sponsors!"

The remains of the three minutes passed by like a flash. Soon enough, it was Lignite's turn.

Cleo felt like hyperventilating. This was _her_ Lignite, that she was going to see after the many long days of waiting to see him live. And here he finally was. She wondered what his angle would be.

The moment Lignite stepped out from backstage, she felt like she was sucker punched in the gut. Just seeing him again took her breath away. Her former boyfriend was clad in a simple tuxedo, and a red bowtie. Cleo felt tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. If he was the old Lignite and hadn't dumped her, what if they had gotten married? Would he have looked like that at their wedding?

She got lost in thoughts are she imagined her and Lignite dancing to their first song together under the light of a thousand stars. Cutting into their wedding cake with their wrist intertwined. Cleo fast-forwarded to a few years, and pretended to watch their children grow up. Hopefully there would have been a rebellion at that time, and their kids would be free from the burden of the Games. They would've lived a happy lifetime.

It could've been happily ever after.

Cleo was so lost inside her imagination that she almost missed Azuria greeting Lignite hello. Thankfully, she didn't. Azuria was just saying, " -a pleasure, Lignite."

Lignite didn't respond but just sat down on his seat. Cleo thought that maybe his angle was supposed to be like that Thresh from two years ago, only saying yes or no to each question to try and be mysterious. Hmm. She would have to wait and see.

Azuria looked a bit mystified by his silence, but just kept going. "So how was life back in District Twelve?"

Cleo cringed. That was the wrong question to ask. Azuria didn't know, so it wasn't her mistake, but boy, how was Lignite going to react to that?

Luckily, he kept his cool. "Life wasn't that well, but I managed to get along." Lignite said. Cleo let out a sigh of relief, but was briefly offended. Didn't she mean anything to him, even though they _did_ break up?

Azuria, fortunately, didn't inquire further, probably noticing it was a sore subject for him. So she continued asking questions, which Lignite either gave a mysterious or one-word answer to. Her last question she managed to pose to him before the buzzer rang off was: "Did you make any friends here?"

Cleo didn't hear his answer.

Not because he spoke too quiet.

Not because the buzzer rang already.

Not because she didn't' want to.

It was because she had curled up and dropped her head between her knees. And from there, Cleo wept and wept until even her hair was damp from crying.

She just wanted him to come home.

* * *

 **Taurus Whittaker**

 _ **District Ten Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Baby you understand me now,**_

 _ **If sometimes you see I'm mad,**_

 _ **Don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel?**_

 _ **When everything goes wrong you see some bad."**_

* * *

That night was a magical night for Taurus. Everything had gone absolutely perfect, from the start of his interview to the end of it. Casey had done well, too, and they had made the Capitol pleased, which was a hard feat to accomplish. Everything was awesome at the moment. No worries. Taurus could just _almost_ forget that the Bloodbath was tomorrow, signaling the start of the Games.

Taurus and Casey planned to watch the recap of their interviews while sitting on the couch stuffing themselves with lots of food that they would probably not get to eat again in their lifetimes.

They stepped out of the elevator, on their floor already. The two smiled at each other gleefully, and Casey twisted the doorknob to their apartment.

Before the door was even fully opened, Taurus knew that there was no sound being uttered inside. That was weird. Their escorts and stylists should've been there already, and maybe their mentors. When Casey opened the door fully, she gasped in horror and clapped both of her hands to her slack-jawed mouth. She dropped to her knees and just kept staring. Eventually, she removed her hands from her face. Her mouth was forming words but no sound came out.

Taurus stepped around her to see what the fuss was all about. He gasped, horrified, once he saw what was there.

Written across the floor, in _blood,_ was written: _Eagle._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Beetee Latier: "** _ **Smarter Than You"**_ **(sung by** _ **The Undertones)**_

 **Roy Lentz: "** _ **Survivor"**_ **(sung by** _ **Destiny's Child)**_

 **Primrose Everdeen:** " _ **Read All About It, Part lll"**_ **(sung by** _ **Emeli Sande)**_

 **Celine Woodman: "** _ **Crazy"**_ **(sung by** _ **Gnarls Barkley)**_

 **Woodman Family: N/A**

 **Cleo Embers: N/A**

 **Taurus Whittaker: "** _ **Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nina Simone)**_

* * *

 **So, these were the last of the interviews? Any favorites, least favorites, or thoughts? What did you think about the cliffhanger, and what do you think it means? This was the longest chapter I've ever written as of yet at over 10,000 words. I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **The next chapter is going to be the Bloodbath. The Pre-Games were such an amazing journey, and I love all the support you guys sent me within these 28 chapters. You, my readers, are the absolute best. No matter who I kill off next chapter, please know it was a really hard decision. I love every single one of my tributes, and it'll be hard to let them go.**

 **On another note, if you want to submit to an awesome, amazing SYOT, check out** _ **Kgunzrok**_ ' **s newly posted one. It's called "Time Stands Still: 20th Hunger Games SYOT". Trust me, you'll love it - now go ahead and submit! Kgunzrok was the lovely submitter of our very own Kinsie Surge.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	29. Chapter 29 - Bloodbath

**Chapter 29 - Posted on (5/8/16)**

* * *

" _Are we out of the woods yet,_

 _Are we out of the woods yet,_

 _Are we out of the woods yet,_

 _Are we out of the woods?_

 _Are we in the clear yet,_

 _Are we in the clear yet,_

 _Are we in the clear yet (the clear yet), good."_

* * *

Here it is...the epic Bloodbath. Promise you won't skip to the end and get spoilers. I promise I love every single one of you tributes, and you don't even know how hard it will be to kill them off. Again, I am _so sorry._ With that said, here it is…

* * *

 **Zoe Mercedes**

 _ **District Six Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Hey baby there ain't no easy way out  
Hey I will stand my ground  
And I won't back down  
No, I won't back down."**_

* * *

Zoe's eyes were misty as she walked to the hovercraft, her mentor and Louis by her side. Believe it or not, she would miss it here. She would miss rebelling against her stylist and seeing her pained face. She would miss yelling at the escort to lighten up. She would miss telling her mentor she didn't care. But most of all, she would miss….Louis.

Louis was good company, no doubt. He was a year older than her but seemed so much younger, so much more naive. He had grown to be a friend. She wanted to protect him somehow.

What had made them friends? All the days and nights they'd spent together. Both of them were desperate to win, though Zoe hid it extremely well. She sure was going to miss Louis.

Currently, he was whooping and hollering at the amazing chance of getting to ride a hovercraft. Zoe couldn't suppress a smirk; he looked so humiliating.

As they got to the part of the lot where the mentor couldn't proceed any further, they turned to her. Surprisingly, she was wiping tears away. Louis and Zoe had definitely grown on her. Sure, Zoe was irritating, but she would partially miss her snappy remarks and comebacks.

"Bye." Zoe said. She wasn't one for making things longer than she needed to.

Louis, on the other hand, shed a few tears as well and promised her that he would come back. Zoe wanted to tell him _not_ to make false promises, but he seemed to believe it with his heart, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Zoe tried to comfort her escort by giving her a one-armed hug - something she would usually not do. But she seemed like she needed it, with all the tears running down her face, making her mascara run, too.

But they had to let her go. After one last, heartfelt goodbye, they turned away painfully and walked to the hovercraft. Right before Zoe entered the door, she leaned over the railing and called back to her escort with a smile. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile. "Don't forget to lighten up!"

Since they were running sort of late, Louis pulled her inside. Peacekeepers came in and roughly strapped them into some sort of chair. As they were working on Zoe's strap, she looked around the room. They seemed to be in some kind of random order, since no two Districts were put together. She herself was seated next to Jayda Newell, who gave her a sneer, and Isobel Wild, who was staring blankly at the floor. Speaking of the floor, it was lighted up with neon blue. In fact, the whole room was. Zoe had never seen anything like it before. Meanwhile, Louis was talking with the lady who was coming around with...a needle? He was blurting facts about hovercrafts, and was asking questions, such as where it was manufactured, and how it flies.

The needle lady didn't respond, but Zoe knew she was growing agitated. She _always_ could automatically sense when someone was growing exasperated, because it was usually her that caused trouble. But just to shut him up, the needle lady answered his questions. "It was manufactured in District Six, and it flies because it does. Got it, kid?"

Zoe was impressed. Her home District had made this awesome vehicle?

She looked around again. The windows were tinted, so no tribute could get an aerial view of the arena they would soon be in. Too bad. She would have loved to get an advantage.

The needle lady came around to Jayda, on Zoe's left, and _stabbed_ the needle into her arm. Zoe watched as it sank in, and whirled around a bit before the woman took it back out. Not much different from the blood samples they took before Reapings, she supposed. But Zoe was always naturally curious, and wanted to see what it was. As the needle lady moved in to stab _her_ , she asked, "What does this do?"

Jayda sniggered. The needle lady ignored her and responded, "It's the tracker. So we can track you in the arena."

And with _that_ happy note, she pushed the needle into her arm. It didn't even hurt that much, but only caused a dull, slight tugging sensation. It whirled around, firmly planting the tracker in her arm. The needle person moved onto Isobel, who obliged, holding her arm out.

Jayda snickered again. "Messed-up Mercedes!" She called, just loud enough for Clarence, two spaces away from her, to hear. Both of them laughed.

"I wouldn't be talking. Why don't you get a mirror?" Zoe retorted.

"You're going to be the first to die in the arena. I guarantee it." Hestia snarled from across from her, earning another laugh from the nearby Careers at Zoe's expense.

The 16 year old rolled her eyes. She was about to come out with something even snarkier, but the nosy needle lady drifted over. "Break up the fight. Save it for the arena."

"I don't take orders from bossy old ladies."

It was a natural instinct to insult people. Zoe didn't even register the words coming out of her own mouth before all the tributes burst into laughter. The 'bossy old lady' dropped her needle on the ground in shock, but glared at Zoe and picked it up quickly and continued doing her job. If Zoe Mercedes ever won the Games, this girl would be the first to go.

Soon enough, everyone quieted down and it was time to take off. She barely felt anything as the hovercraft ascended quietly and flew off. Zoe wished the windows weren't tinted so she could look out of it. She had never flown in a hovercraft before, much less a flying vehicle. She would've wanted to see the aerial view.

She may have not been able to read minds, but Zoe knew that everyone was thinking: _This may be my last hovercraft ride in my life._ Actually, it may be their last time in the Capitol in their lives. Zoe knew she was thinking the same thing. Again with the attachment to her escort and everyone.

The hovercraft's engine purred softly and hissed as the vehicle touched down just moments later. She was disappointed about this - she had wished to ride longer. Zoe discovered she enjoyed flying, and now finally knew what Louis was talking about whenever he talked about hovercrafts. His dark eyes would light up and so would his expression, and he would just ramble on and on. Maybe Zoe would be a hovercraft builder one day, too. _You're thinking ahead. Think about surviving the arena first._

The silence by the tributes was only broken by Louis' shouts of glee. "Can we go again? _Please?"_

The Peacekeepers ignored him, but continued to usher everyone out of their seats and out of the hovercraft, much to most of their protests. There were 24 Peacekeepers in all, which meant one for each tribute. Zoe was roughly pushed forward, and the rest of the moments passed in a blur as she found her launch room. To her surprise, Zoe's stylist, Taffy, was there. Zoe had hated her stylist; she dressed her in too-tight, revealing costumes. But she had found that everyone in the world needed someone to hold them down, and Taffy did just that.

Taffy was leaning against the wall calmly, but Zoe knew that she would miss her and Louis more than she would let on. Taffy rose wall as soon as she saw her tribute approach. "Zoe! You need your jacket."

The 16 year old might've imagined it, but she saw tears brimming in her stylist's surgically-modified rainbow colored eyes. Nevertheless, she decided to make another snarky remark for the umpteenth time. After all, if she died in the arena, her stylist had to remember her as annoying. "Uh...a jacket?"

Taffy ignored her comment, for she just remembered how annoying Zoe's sarcastic comments were. She went over to a rack on the far side of the room, where only one article of clothing was hanging, and picked out that very item. "Here."

Zoe walked over to Taffy and examined it. It was a black waterproof jacket, and it seemed to be just her size. On the back, detailed in was a huge, gray number six. Probably because 'District Six' and all that. Zoe put it on quickly. Then she tested it. Her results were that it was overall nice. It felt comfortable.

Taffy gave her tribute a once-over. Zoe was wearing the jacket, which was unzipped. Behind the jacket, she was wearing a midnight black, short-sleeved shirt. Her pants were dull green cargo pants. For shoes, dark brown lace-up boots that went up to her knees donned her feet. Zoe's hair was done in an intricate French-Braid-into-side-ponytail. Zoe definitely played the part of looking dangerous.

Zoe began to make promises that she _would_ win. Those were false promises, though. Who knew if she would _really_ win. Fate was the only one who could see the future.

Her parley was interrupted when a female voice over the loudspeaker, possibly Claire Cypresse's voice, announced, "Twenty seconds to launch."

Zoe looked at her stylist with sad eyes. "This is it, then."

Taffy couldn't hold back the tears as her eyes overflowed with water. "You have the courage and strength to make it. I know you can." Then she smiled wistfully. "You would make a fine Victor."

The District Six Female gave her one last hug - a one-armed, quick embrace - and ran to make it to the launch tube as the disembodied voice said, "Ten seconds to launch."

Since the glass didn't seal around the entrance of the tube yet, Zoe said to her escort, "What would happen if I didn't get on this thing?"

Taffy told her, "You wouldn't go into the arena."

Zoe seriously contemplated on stepping off the wretched tube and not going into the Games at all. As much as she wanted to, she decided against it. She would be hunted down and maybe killed in a cruel way. Nope, not doing that.

To her surprise, the tube began to close and glass snaked around to cover the entrance. And seconds after that, she began rising up.

She looked to Taffy, who mouthed the words, _you'll make me proud, no matter what._

And then Zoe was bathed in light. Was it possible she died already? All she could remember from before was that she got into the launch tube, and now this. But the light was soon cut off and gave way to darkness as she _really_ got her first glimpse of the arena.

She soon understood what it was all about. It was _a dark forest._

However, she didn't have much time to marvel at the sight before she lost her balance, and tumbled head-first into the ground. All Zoe knew and could feel was her body and bones being shattered and ripped to pieces. And after that, all she could see was darkness.

But two people soon came into her view, and though she didn't thoroughly recognize them, something seemed familiar about them. One was a male, maybe a middle-aged man, and a female of the same age.

And suddenly she knew who they were.

"Mom and Dad?"

* * *

 **Huxley Cathode**

 _ **District Three Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You seem to replace,**_

 _ **Your brain with your heart,**_

 _ **You take things so hard,**_

 _ **And then you fall apart."**_

* * *

Huxley barely had time to register what was happening, though it seemed like it happened in slow motion. Zoe Mercedes, who was just four spots away from him, immediately had tumbled off her plate and was ripped apart by the land mine. The first blood of the Games had been drawn. He felt woozy and dizzy at the same time. If he continued to feel this way, he might even fall off of his podium. Even if Huxley didn't fall off his podium, there was a chance he might die in the Bloodbath. A _huge_ chance.

Looking around him, there was a lot to see. Trees with branches that looked hands surrounded them in a circle, and the sky was pitch black. Purple lanterns hung from the trees, and lit just enough so you could see the entrance to a path. A dark forest, no doubt. The Gamemakers had really outdone themselves this year.

Now looking at the tributes, he was standing next to Roy Lentz, who was on his left, and Isobel Wild, who was on his right. He had seen both of them in action, on the Training Days, and both of them had skills to possibly kill him. They were both skilled with knives. Unfortunately, Huxley was nowhere near Eudora, who was really far from him. He could still see her, though. Unluckily, Dora was placed on a podium next to two _Careers,_ Bay and Jayda. What were the Gamemakers thinking?

A countdown was going on, and Huxley knew that it was on thirty seconds left. Approximately thirty seconds ago, Zoe Mercedes had fell off her podium to her doom. Many other tributes would meet their doom today, too. It wasn't fair, but of course, nothing was.

He had just realized he was biting his lip, and hard. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but he didn't really care. He was going to die, and he was going to die soon. Maybe even in the Bloodbath. He better get used to the taste of blood.

Time flew by like a whirlwind, until there was only ten seconds remaining. It was like the launch room all over again. _Ten...nine...eight...seven...six…_

Huxley had promised himself he wouldn't do it. He promised himself, and he didn't like to go against his promises. But it was possibly the only way he had a chance.

He would go to the Cornucopia.

In preparation for the countdown to get to zero, he crouched down so he could spring off of his podium and run right to the Bloodbath quickly. He would grab that backpack on the far side of the arena and grab something sharp from the center of the Cornucopia.

And before he knew it, it was almost time. _Five...four...three...two...one…_

Huxley sprang off his podium and ran straight to the Cornucopia, at the same time yelling at Dora to run.

The Bloodbath had officially begun.

* * *

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 _ **District Two Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Two feet below the surface**_

 _ **I can still make out your wavy face,  
and if I could just reach you **_

_**maybe I could leave this place."**_

* * *

It all happened so quickly. The countdown had concluded, and all the tributes ran to the Cornucopia. None of which, she noted, ran away from the Cornucopia. _Hmm._ Hestia smirked. _This could get interesting._

In a catlike and feline demeanor, she jumped from her podium to the ground and took off to the weapons at a sprint. She knew her mother, sister, and father were probably watching this right now. She hoped to make them proud, unlike Zoe, who failed epically.

Reaching the Cornucopia first, Hestia grabbed a machete from the weapons scattered and littering the ground. Clarence, Jayda, Vulcan, Ebony, and Bay were right on her heels, and they all grabbed a weapon.

"Do we have a plan?" Jayda asked Clarence as they all watched the tributes approach them.

Clarence answered, "Yeah. Kill everyone."

"That I can do."  
And with that, they sprung into action. Hestia swiped her machete at the nearest person that was _not_ her ally, which happened to be Rowan Mattock. Celine Woodman, who was his ally, screamed in horror as her District Partner's blood sprayed the air. Hestia smiled. "You're next, little girl." Celine soon grabbed a pack and ran away, amidst to Bay's spears being thrown at her. She dodged them all, and the little sly redhead ran off into the forest.

 _We lost her._ Hestia thought angrily. Luckily, there were 16 other tributes she could kill, minus her allies, Zoe, and Rowan. She turned her attention back to Rowan, who was groping around the ground to find a weapon. He picked up the nearest axe and tried to swing it at Hestia, but she ducked and kneed him in the stomach. "Is that little forearm injury causing you a disadvantage?" She purred in a sweet-sour way. "Come closer. I'll show you what a _real_ injury is."

She grabbed his right forearm, the one with the injury, and gripped it hard. Rowan cried out in pain and tried to twist away from Hestia. Unfortunately for him, her grip was rock hard. She smiled sadistically and used her free hand, the one with the machete, to stab him in the back. Rowan gasped, and blood squirt out of his mouth. He fell to the ground, and remained still. Hestia had her first kill.

Next to her, Ebony was battling against Casimir Moretti, who was putting up a good defense. However, no one could defeat an unbeatable Career like Ebony. She twisted and twirled stabbing her flail in all places unimaginable. Ebony shoved him against the Cornucopia wall, and with nowhere else to go, Casimir was at a loss. She stabbed him in the heart quickly, and soon got it over with. Another kill for the Careers!

Looking around once more, Hestia noticed a certain redhead was back. Celine must've came back to the Bloodbath. However, she didn't look like the Celine everyone knew and adored. _This_ Celine had a wild look in her eyes. A wild look of bloodlust, that was.

Hestia got Ebony's attention. "Look at Celine! What on Earth is she doing?"

A Ebony gaped at the sight. Celine had picked up the axe Rowan had dropped on the ground and was using it to stab Taurus Whittaker repeatedly. "I didn't know that Celine had it in her." Taurus was pleading for mercy, and looked like he was about to go into one of his episodes. However, the District Seven Female didn't give him a chance to. She took a final swing at his neck, eventually beheading him.

Hestia thought that what happened was very gory. Now that Celine was a strong contender, she had to watch her back. This was certainly a turn of events. She always knew Celine had something about her, and now she was showing her true colors.

The District Two Female didn't contemplate on this too much, for she wanted to get back into the groove of the Bloodbath. She scanned the Cornucopia for her allies. Clarence was sneaking up on Huxley, who had his back turned to the Career Leader. _Bad idea, Huxley. Lesson learned: Never have your back turned to Clarence._ Clarence slammed the hilt of his sword into Huxley, causing him to stumble forward and fall uselessly onto the ground. While the 13 year old was weakened, Clarence leaned down and whispered in his ear, just loud enough for others around him to hear, "Never mess with Clarence Reiss." With that, the 18 year old brought his sword down on his back.

Huxley pleaded with the Reiss boy not to kill him, but he drew his final breath as Clarence mercilessly slaughtered him.

By this time, tributes were scattered all over the Cornucopia, pouring over weapons and supplies of all sorts. Vulcan was going after Kinsie Surge, who was darting around and avoiding his attacks. Clarence was now running to check out the other weapons. Jayda was protecting a pile of backpacks that she wanted to keep for the Careers. Bay was assisting Ebony as they tried to kill Quince, who kept running just out of reach.

Isobel, who was on the far side of the arena and was going through a pack, looked up and noticed the District Four tributes chasing after her District Partner. She picked up a throwing knife, which was spread out on the floor, and hoped her aim would be true as she chucked it as far as she could to try to kill the two Careers.

It made its mark.

But it hit the wrong person.

It didn't hit Quince. Nor did it hit Ebony Williams or Bay Riverside.

Louis stumbled to the ground, wide-eyed, as he stared at the throwing knife producing from his chest. Then his breathing became shallower as he tried to hold onto life. But he was bleeding out, and Isobel must've hit an important organ. He collapsed to the ground as life bled out of him.

Isobel pressed her hands to her mouth in a silent scream. Hestia knew this was possibly was one of the only times Isobel Wild missed while using throwing knives. What was worse was that she killed someone else when she missed. Isobel, frightened and guilty, ran out of the Cornucopia and into the woods, never looking back.

By this time, Hestia noted that all the other tributes, if they didn't die, ran away. Jayda had managed to keep the supply/backpack consistently steady. Only a few tributes had managed to get either weapons or packs. It was win-win for the Careers.

Dead bodies of tributes littered the ground, most of the bodies mangled unimaginable. Hestia did a headcount and counted that five people were killed in the Bloodbath, or six people if you counted Zoe.

Bay jogged over and seemed to read your thoughts. "It's weird that Zoe died. She probably would've won if she didn't die first."

Hestia nodded. She secretly was glad Zoe died, or else the Careers might've had the tiniest bit of competition.

Clarence called the group over for a conference, and they huddled in the empty Cornucopia. Everyone had cleared out, so they were alone and no one would be eavesdropping. "Are we all present?" He asked them, mentally making sure none of the Careers died in the Bloodbath.

Everyone was there.

Jayda spoke up. "I think we killed most of the people, besides Celine killing Taurus and Isobel killing Louis."

"I think Isobel killing Louis was an accident." Bay shrugged casually and tried to keep his tone steady. But Hestia could read past that. She knew Bay was a bit protective of Isobel - maybe he had a thing for her or something like that.

Ebony didn't have the same thoughts. "She stole our kill! I say we hunt her."

Clarence shrugged, like Bay had done a moment earlier. "We cross that bridge when we come to it."

Hestia noticed a certain crazed look in his eyes, the one of a psychopath. She knew Clarence would eventually grow more dangerous than ever. But for now, it was just the starting point and it was still safe to follow him.

...Wasn't it?

All of a sudden, Hestia felt a tugging sensation that she just wanted to go home, where everything was going to be okay and she would be safe.

But she had chosen her fate, and she chosen the wrong path.

Hestia was a murderer. At 18 years old, she killed a person already. Maybe she would even have to kill more people, or be killed herself. After all, you only live once. She hadn't just chosen the wrong path to be a tribute in the 76th Hunger Games, but she also chose the wrong path in _life_ itself.

She turned away from the others so they wouldn't see the tears that stung her eyes and vision. She swiped angrily at her eyes. Angry at herself, angry at the Games, angry at the Capitol. Hestia was wrong. She was wrong about _everything._

But it was too late to turn back.

* * *

 **24th: Zoe Mercedes - D6F**

 **23rd: Rowan Mattock - D7M**

 **22nd: Casimir Moretti - D9M**

 **21st: Taurus Whittaker - D10M**

 **20th: Huxley Cathode - D3M**

 **19th: Louis Lindbergh - D6M**

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Zoe Mercedes: "** _ **I Won't Back Down"**_ **(sung by** _ **Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers)**_

 **Huxley Cathode:** " _ **Crybaby"**_ **(sung by** _ **Melanie Martinez)**_

 **Hestia Gabbro: "** _ **I Do Not Want This" (**_ **sung by** _ **Nine Inch Nails)**_

* * *

 **I've literally been procrastinating putting this chapter on, since it was so hard to write and I really didn't want to let go of six of my tributes. On the bright side, I hope you're okay with it. We're finally into the Games!**

 **I'm so sorry to the submitters for the tributes I had to kill off. Then again, this is the Hunger Games, so I hope you were kind of expecting it…**

 **Did anyone expect Zoe's death? What did you think of this chapter?**

 **I'll be back soon with another chapter.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	30. Chapter 30 - Day One Part Two

**Chapter 30 - Posted on ( 5/14/16)**

* * *

 **Primrose Everdeen**

 _ **District 12 Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You've got the words to change a nation,**_

 _ **But you're biting your tongue,**_

 _ **You've spent a lifetime stuck in silence,**_

 _ **Afraid you'll say something wrong."**_

* * *

"Is she going to be okay?" Prim asked no one in particular, staring unblinkingly at Lynx's face.

The 14 year old had always thought of Lynx as strong. She looked up to Lynx as a role model, who was fearless, brave, and always knew what to do in dreadful situations. Prim admired her like a sister, and somehow imagined her as unbeatable; the unbeatable Lynx, who was the true definition of courageous. But right now, Lynx was looking the _opposite_ of courageous.

For approximately one day, the 17 year old was confined to the hospital wing of the Training Center in a thin, provided nightgown. Lynx apparently had lost a lot of blood. So much, in fact, that when Prim finally got to her, she was as pale as a sheet. And her blood was manipulated, telling from the words written out from the sticky, thick substance. _Eagle._ She wondered what that meant.

It had all happened the night of the interviews. Apparently, everything was going well. Lynx had went back to her apartment early, saying she couldn't trust Casey and Taurus on their own and she wanted to wait for them. But everything went straight downhill once something happened and her stomach was slashed open, possibly with a knife. Prim couldn't bear to think about what Lynx was feeling. Sometimes she imagined that _she_ was the one getting slashed. Then, after Lynx was slashed, someone used her blood to write on the floor. _Eagle_ knocked Lynx out, after all. End of story. The rest remained a mystery.

Prim couldn't help but think that at least _Eagle,_ or whatever it was, saw Lynx as a threat; something they'd never think about herself.

At least Casey was okay. She entered the arena, and luckily survived the Bloodbath, free of injury. Casey was the only one of the twenty four tributes who had a clue to what _Eagle_ was connected to, the "ventilation access malfunction". Prim hoped she would get out alive, so they could solve the problem together. Casey was good company.

As for Taurus, she didn't know him that well, but she guessed he was a good kid when he wasn't having mood swings (with according to the District Ten Mentor, happened _a lot)._ Unfortunately, he died in the Bloodbath - _by Celine Woodman._ How crazy was that? Celine was only 14 years old, but she seemed to go crazy in that one part of the Bloodbath. Johanna suspected nothing, of course. She was just proud of how Celine managed to kill someone in the Bloodbath.

The nurse, who was fluffing up Lynx's pillows, stopped and shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe a coma? She lost a lot of blood, hon, and she's not waking up." With that, the nurse turned on her heel and left the room.

The Everdeen girl sighed heavily. _If_ there was going to be a rebellion - and only _if -_ they had lost one of their best fighters.

The door to the hospital room swung open, but the nurse didn't come back. Finnick headed in, his forehead wrinkled and creased in concern, and shut the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it. "Is she going to be okay?"

They should probably hang out more. That was exactly what Prim said earlier. Prim took her head in her hands wearily. "The nurse said maybe a coma."

Finnick looked disappointed that Lynx wasn't doing better from the last time he saw her. In fact, she looked no different; pale skin, as if no blood was running through her veins; brown eyes closed, as if she was asleep, but she was not; and her clothes, traded for a simple hospital gown. She looked dead. The only thing that could signify she was alive was the heart monitor beeping her heart rate. It wasn't a steady beat, but at least it was something. Finnick rubbed his tired eyes. Prim noticed they had black bags under them, meaning he was losing a lot of sleep. Poor Finnick. He probably was stressed because his tributes going into the arena, and now this.

But there was a lot more to it then the naked eye could see. Finnick seemed troubled. "I've been thinking about something, and it's about what was written on the floor. _Eagle._ "

Prim tensed up. All the mentors had rushed to the District Ten room to see for themselves, and now they were all racing to find what it meant. Not just a race against themselves, but a race against time. Reluctantly, Prim had to tell them about the "ventilation access malfunction". Maybe they'd know something she didn't. Turns out, they had got that note, but they didn't suspect anything. Now they knew. "So what did you find?"

"Well, it's just a theory. Remember the Old World?"

Prim got goosebumps just thinking about it. "You mean, the place where people destroyed _themselves,_ by polluting, and there were a lot of crazy people out there who got their hands on weapons and tried to kill others."

Finnick nodded, which meant _yes._ "That's the place. Do you remember what Old America's symbol was?"

Prim racked her brain, trying to remember things from when she took history class. Old America was what Panem was built on. "Their flag?"

"Nope. It was _the eagle."_

* * *

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 _ **District Three Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I just wanna make you proud,**_

 _ **I'm never gonna be good enough for you,**_

 _ **I can't stand another fight,**_

 _ **and nothing's alright."**_

* * *

Dora felt a tad bit alone, as she wandered around this haunted forest. But she was mostly spooked, and creeped out. She just wanted to go home, back to District Three where even her mother would be a better option. _Anything_ was better than the arena, where she had no hope to hold onto and no one to be with, She now had experienced blood and death firsthand. Dora had escaped the Bloodbath unscathed, but poor Huxley found himself with quite the opposite. She would have traded her life for his, if she had a choice.

Everyone always said, _life is full of choices._ But most of the time, it was up to fate.

A small growl interrupted Dora's philosophical reverie. She jumped, nervous, and looked around. What could it be? It could have been one of the _trees._ Even the trees looked creepy, from the way the purple lanterns were hanging on the branches.

But no. The thing that growled was right in front of her. No, it wasn't just a _thing_. It was a _wolf._ And it wasn't just a _wolf._ And it wasn't just a wolf. It was a pack of wolves!

Eudora screeched and took off at top speed, running for her life. She said something like, "No! This cannot be happening! I like eggs!" But it just sounded like foreign words on the tip of her tongue. Yep, it was official: Dora was losing her sanity. She stumbled and tripped on tree roots that were jutting out of the ground (probably on purpose) along the way. All that was in her head was the sound of screaming, which she later recognized as her _own._ Her brown hair flew behind her as she just about _flew_ away from the mutts.

Mutts, short for mutations. That was what they were called. She remembered that mutts were part of every arena. But, Dora thought they only came out when they were trying to gather some tributes together. It was only a few minutes, hours, or whatever, after the Bloodbath…

The cold sense of dread began to creep into her. Was she being lead somewhere? To another tribute? To a Gamemaker trap? To the _Careers?_ The Capitol was only trying to rid of the rest of the tributes so they could have a Victor. Did her life mean _anything,_ anything at all, to them? She was probably just a weak little girl with no chance to them.

Though it must've been early evening, it was still pitch dark, as it had been during the Bloodbath. She found this fact completely unsettling. Maybe - or more like _probably_ \- she would die never seeing natural daylight again. Or daylight at all. All of it was so confusing and new to Dora.

But it was no time to ponder about the universe and whatnot. For goodness sake, _wolves_ were chasing her. Dora had never been fit or athletic, so she was huffing and puffing by the time she had reached a few yards away from where she was standing before. It didn't help that the tree roots were acting up. Her feet kept getting tangled in them, she kept tripping and almost falling, and the cycle started over again…

At last, the cycle stopped repeating, but in an unfortunate way. The wolves, against her luck, did not run away, nor did they show any signs of stopping. Dora had finally tripped over a tree root and ended up actually falling on the ground. She did a nosedive and landed face first onto the solid, dirt-packed ground.

On the dark side, she didn't have enough energy to push herself up off the ground. She was simply just too tired, and breathless. Second, the wolves were running way too fast for her to do anything. In that moment, Dora saw life flash before her very eyes, the split second before the assumed leader of the pack of wolves slammed into her, and they both went rolling in the dirt.

Eudora realized her position, and her situation, was not good. As for her position, she was lying on her back with the wolf pinning her arms and legs with its body. It's unnaturally-colored golden eyes stared at her, and it looked more like a wild animal then ever.

The rest of the wolf pack stayed at a safe distance, but looked ready to spring into action any second.

Dora whimpered quietly at her unfortunate situation. "Please...don't kill me.." She whispered. As the wolf slowly let out a low growl, she whispered again, of out of nervousness, "Please…"

To her surprise, the wolf peeled itself off her, turned, and ran deep into the woods. The rest of the pack followed it, amidst all the glares directed to Eudora. At least, she _thought_ they were glares. Did they even have eyebrows?

Well, Dora didn't really care if she had an answer or not. The only thing that mattered, was that she was alive.

* * *

 **Kinsie Surge**

 _ **District Five Female. 12 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad,**_

 _ **The craziest friend that you've ever had,**_

 _ **You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone,**_

 _ **Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong."**_

* * *

Nighttime - or as close to nighttime as you could get in the arena - had fallen over the 18 tributes that remained. It was hard to tell, since the arena was dark all the time anyway.

As far as Kinsie knew, the Bloodbath was many hours ago. Not much action happened since then; she had met up with her 'alliance' and they walked far into the arena. Casimir, a member of their alliance, had died in the Bloodbath.

Kinsie secretly hated herself. In the Bloodbath, she ran to get a pack and a weapon and get out of there. But there was a flaw in the plan when she saw Casimir cornered up against the Cornucopia wall with Ebony about to stab him.

She had saw him.

But she had done nothing to save him.

Of course, Kinsie _did_ hate herself because of that.

Rosie, who was the unofficial leader of their alliance, sighed heavily before saying the first words any of them uttered in hours. "Here is a good place, I think."

 _Yeah, right,_ Kinsie thought. It was a part of the forest which looked exactly the same as the others. However, she couldn't agree with Rosie. She let the pack drop from her shoulders and she sat cross legged on the ground.

Casey, who was sitting near Kinsie, told her, "You should look in your backpack you got to see if anything is useful." Her normally bright black eyes had a sunken vibe to it, as if she had gave up hope already.

Kinsie nodded. She was the only one of the alliance to have gotten a pack from the Cornucopia. Rosie, on the other hand, had managed to get a bow and arrow but nothing else. Casey had snagged two sets of throwing knives for her and Dylan. But that was it. Kinsie had gotten a knife, as well.

Unzipping the pack, its contents were revealed. She called out items as she leafed through the inside. "A sleeping bag, night vision goggles, dried fruits, beef jerky, some crackers, and some rope."

Dylan seemed a bit disappointed, but said, "Night vision goggles would probably be really useful in here, since it's dark all the time. Who should wear them?"

Rosie said, "I'll wear it. You never know when it might come in handy!" She gladly accepted the goggles and stuffed it deep into the pocket of her waterproof arena jacket.

Kinsie wanted the sleeping bag desperately, but knew she should lend it to someone else. Well, it didn't really matter, did it? She was going to kill them all in their sleep, anyway.

Casey got the sleeping bag, but that was as far as they got for their trades before something startled them.

Up in the sky, the Capitol anthem rang, and the Capitol seal flashed electric blue. _It must be the faces in the sky._ They did this every year, to recognize the tributes who had died.

With no trees or anything obscuring her vision, Kinsie had a clear view of the first name called. _Huxley Cathode._ His smiling face appeared to the crowd, before promptly vanishing like the breeze, again. Poor kid. He was a sweet 13 year old.

Next on the list, was Louis Lindbergh, District Six Male. Kinsie didn't know much about him, but knew enough that he was a nice guy. Maybe he could've got far, but who knew. It was too late now.

Since it had skipped right to District Six, Kinsie knew that Roy wasn't dead. She felt a small pang of happiness for him; her District Partner was the only ever person she ever opened up to, about her backstory, her family, and the divorce. Kinsie knew Roy Lentz was a trustworthy soul. She kind of wanted him to win, if she couldn't. They felt the same way about each other in that way.

Louis' image disappeared in a jiffy, leaving behind a new picture of Zoe Mercedes. Now, Kinsie was shocked to hear that one. Zoe seemed like a strong person, who couldn't possibly be the first to die. She could've expected Dora to die first (who surprisingly had escaped the Bloodbath unharmed), but definitely not Zoe. Zoe's snarl seemed to be leering at the 12 year old, even if it was just an image. Kinsie looked away, not wanting to see Zoe's face anymore.

Once Kinsie looked back up, she saw the picture of Rowan Mattock, the District Seven Male. Poor guy. He seemed nice enough, even though he didn't really make an impression on her. After all, he only got a 4 in Training. But, she still felt kind of bad for him. Celine was now left ally-less.

The Surge girl knew what she coming next, but she froze as Casimir's face appeared in the sky. Next to her, her alliance members were looking down in shame, all except for Rosie, who was glancing at the sky but had silent tears running down her face. She didn't know Casimir much, but knew him well enough to say he was a nice guy. Maybe he could've got far, if Ebony hadn't cornered him against the Cornucopia.

Luckily, those few seconds where Casimir was in the sky passed quickly. The Capitol Gamemakers moved on, and projected Taurus Whittaker's face into the arena. Kinsie was slightly expecting that; he wasn't much of a fighter, but was more like a lover. Still, she would mourn for him.

The Capitol seal flashed again, and disappeared within moments. Rosie wiped the last of the tears from her dark eyes. "Why don't we just sort everything out tomorrow. I just want to go to sleep."

Before anyone could say anything else, Kinsie blurted out, "I'll take watch." Her alliance members didn't notice the malice underneath the offer. They couldn't tell that Kinsie didn't want anything in the way of her killing them.

Dylan nodded slowly. "That's a good idea. Wake us up if something comes."

Casey brought out her sleeping bag and snuggled in, soon asleep. The others didn't have much luck, as Kinsie could tell. Dylan and Rosie were forced to sleep on the rough, hard ground of the dark forest.

Kinsie leaned against the nearest tree, and stared at her alliance. They simply _had_ to go. There were what, eighteen tributes left? If she took out the three of them, then there would only be fifteen tributes left. She would be three steps closer to being declared Victor of the 76th Annual Hunger Games.

On the other hand, her conscience was fighting against her thoughts. It was saying that if she killed them, she would be a murderer. She would kill three people. Kinsie didn't want to think about that; she just wanted to win, go home to District Five, and reunite her family.

But she didn't really _want_ to be a murderer…

Meanwhile, Casey, Dylan, and Rosie's breathing had become steadier and deeper, meaning they were already fast asleep. If she was going to do anything or take action, she was going to have to do it now.

Her thoughts and conscience clashed, in a battle to see who would come out on top. With a heavy sigh after she planned everything out, Kinsie reluctantly picked up her knife she had obtained from the Cornucopia and scooted toward her allies.

With a sharp brain, she knew she would have to take out Rosie first. Everyone looked up to Rosie, as she was the unofficial leader, and if that 16 year old was out, everything would be in pandemonium. Kinsie crawled, on all fours, closer and closer to the District Nine Female. Rosie didn't even flinch, as she was lost in the dream land. Kinsie hesitantly raised her weapon up to Rosie's neck. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She was sure the cameras were on her now. What was her mother thinking? That her daughter, Kinsie, was well on her way to killing someone? No, Kinsie's mother would never approve.

In a flash, Kinsie felt like she was watching herself through another person's eyes. Kinsie was about to kill someone, with her knife raised over that someone's neck. And she realized, _no. I can't do this. Rosie, Dylan, and Casey are the first people I've ever been_ really _friends with, and they are the first people that I would turn to if I was in trouble. I can trust them, and they can trust me._ The words sounded unfamiliar on her tongue. _Friends._

With a shock, Kinsie felt something startling on her face. It was a tear.

She lowered her knife away from Rosie and back to her side. She simply couldn't bring herself to do it. She had lost too much; her brother and her family. Kinsie couldn't lose anything else.

Kinsie leaned, again, back against the tree, ashamed with herself. A gentle breeze swept against the arena, sending the branches swaying back and forth, to and fro. She could hear Dylan's soft snores, and an owl hooting in the distance. Kinsie closed her eyes. It was her arena lullaby.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Primrose Everdeen: "** _ **Read All About It, Part lll"**_ **(sung by** _ **Emeli Sande)**_

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh: "** _ **Perfect"**_ **(sung by** _ **Simple Plan)**_

 **Kinsie Surge: "** _ **Mad Hatter"**_ **(sung by** _ **Melanie Martinez)**_

* * *

 **So, hi again! No deaths this chapter. I know this is a little late, but a reader (shoutout to** luka11303 **!) suggested that I should write an epilogue/obituary for each tribute, saying why I killed them and what I thought of them. Without further ado, here it is!**

* * *

 _ **24th: Zoe Mercedes - D6F - Zoe was an amazing tribute, hands down. I loved writing her, and she was different than any other tributes I had received. Zoe was strong, sarcastic, and snarky. But when I accepted her, I had already planned out most of the deaths and the order of what the tributes would go in. I didn't really have any room for her going far into the Games. She was originally going to be in my Top 8, but I switched two characters last minute and I had a cool idea of, what if one of the most unexpected people died first? Once again, I'm very sorry, and she was a great tribute.**_

* * *

 _ **23rd: Rowan Mattock - D7M - Rowan was absolutely amazing. He was a great tribute, who had his own complications. Rowan was naive, and wanted to protect Celine but didn't know how. I'm very sorry that he died. I killed him off because he wouldn't really have a chance with that forearm injury, but he was easy to write for and was a great character. I just had to be realistic. Once again, I'm really sorry…**_

* * *

 _ **22nd: Casimir Moretti - D9M - Did you know that Tessa dying at the Reapings wasn't in Casimir's form? I honestly made that up at last second. All that aside, Casimir was once again a thrill to write for. He was a great, innocent kid. I knew I had to kill him off, though, because being realistic, he didn't really have a chance in the arena. Also, he was a submitted Bloodbath. I loved Casimir, though, and he was a favorite of yours. I'm sorry I had to kill him off, but at least he'll be with Tessa now.**_

* * *

 _ **21st: Taurus Whittaker - D10M - I'll get straight to the point. I had way too many mood swing tributes. I knew I'd have to kill one off in the Bloodbath, but who to choose? I had to pick Taurus, being realistic, but let me just say he was an amazing tribute. He was so easy to write for, amazingly easy, and he had such a hard life that it was very realistic. I really liked him but didn't have anywhere else for him to go. I'm sorry that I had to kill him, but again, he's with his mother now.**_

* * *

 _ **20th: Huxley Cathode - D3M - I know you all are probably really mad at me for killing him. But he was, once again, a submitted Bloodbath. Huxley and Dora's friendship was amazing and awesome. He was a blast to have as a tribute for me. He didn't fit in with the other District Three citizens, just like Dora, and they both forged a friendship right away. I didn't want to kill him off, but I didn't really imagine him getting far. I'm sorry…**_

* * *

 _ **19th: Louis Lindbergh - D6M - To be honest, Louis was kind of hard to write, but I liked him anyway. All he wanted to do was ride a hovercraft, and luckily he did before he died. Louis was shy and nice, and was a relatable tribute to most of you. He had a tough father who didn't really approve of hovercrafts but he managed through it. Louis was a survivor, and I'm sorry that Isobel killed him by accident. It just had to be done.**_

* * *

 **Whew! Now that that's over with, who is your favorite remaining tribute? Do you want another Capitol update in the next chapter?**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked this!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes (bolded means alive; this idea was taken from** WizardDemigodGladerGatekeeper **, shoutout to you!)**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

 **Kinsie Surge**

 **Dylan Tweed**

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

 **Casey Taurus**

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

 **Celine Woodman**

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	31. Chapter 31 - Day Two Part One

**Chapter 31 - Posted on ( 5/16/16)**

* * *

 **Lignite Parker**

 _ **District Twelve Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We all are living in a dream,  
But life ain't what it seems,**_

 _ **Oh everything's a mess,**_

 _ **And all these sorrows I have seen."**_

* * *

What had seemed like just moments ago, Lignite was laying against the ground, drifting into a long, sleepy slumber. His energy and adrenaline had ran out by the fast-paced Bloodbath. He just wanted to rest for a little while. But now, what he assumed was hours later (the arena was _still_ dark, much to his dismay), something seemed a bit...off.

He checked his surroundings, all the while sitting up. Azalea and Quince were still next to him, sleeping. Okay, at least he wasn't by himself. Scanning more of what was around him, Lignite noted that the arena had some sort of... _vibrating_ noise to it. That was odd.

Now that he was thinking about, a dull shaking shook the land. It was only small, but it was enough to wake both Azalea and Quince up from their lengthy dormancy. They both glance about in concern. "What just happened?" Azalea asked, her brain still pretty inactive in the early morning. Her dark brown hair was a tangled mess, and both boys could bet it looked like that every morning. The low ponytail hairstyle her stylist had done did little to help her appearance.

Lignite opened his mouth to respond with what his theory was, that something was shaking the arena, when it happened again. Quince sprang to his feet with urgency. He was the only one of the trio who seemed to have a hint as to what was going on. "Come on!" He urged breathlessly, breathless from nervousness. Azalea followed in suite anxiously, grabbing the backpack she had snagged from the Cornucopia at the Bloodbath. Lignite leaped up as well, but almost lost sight of Quince. Quince was sprinting away at top speed. Azalea was panting and trying to catch up to him with little luck. The Lazarre boy was pretty fast.

They both stumbled over and tripped on hidden seedling roots. Quince weaved in and out of the trees quickly, and Azalea and Lignite had to navigate him more than once. Finally, they burst into a clearing, where Quince finally skidded to a halt. Azalea and Lignite were right on his heels, relieved from the break. The female and District Twelve citizen doubled over, breathing heavily from the unexpected exercise, with their hands on their knees for balance. Lignite noticed that Quince couldn't help but suppress a smirk from their discomfort and out-of-shape-ness.

Azalea was the first to break the silence, once she had finally caught her breath and got a chance to calm down. Running was not her forte, especially not early when she just got up. Speaking of early, she was _not_ a morning person, so that was a double-double lose. "What was that about?"

Quince rocked back and forth on his heels, his smirk vanishing from his features quickly once he noted how the ground was still shaking. "I think it was an earthquake! They happen all the time in District Eleven, and they have a _lot_ of damage. The best way to take action is to go to a clearing. A tree would've flattened us if we didn't run."

The three of them glanced back behind them, to the way they came from. Several trees already had fallen on the ground, in the wake of their path. More trees were toppling over like dominoes in the distance. Lignite sighed. Did it really matter that he just prolonged his life? He'd probably die, anyway; maybe by the hands of a mutt or Career. Those were his best bets.

Quince was looking more serious. "We should probably try to avoid tree-filled areas from now on. It was hard enough to find this clearing. If another earthquake happens again, we might not be able to find a way out. I found this by luck."

Azalea nodded, still looking a bit nervous and jumpy, as if something would attack them any minute. Well, it was the arena, so that might as well happen. "Do you think we caused it somehow?" She held her breath. Honestly, Lignite thought Azalea was good company and she was nice and all, but she worried too much sometimes. Maybe something happened back in her hometown, and caused her to get too anxious. Lignite certainly knew what it was like to be traumatized. His parents, his brother, the fire…

Pushing those pointless thoughts aside, Lignite shook his head and let out a little snort. "Nah. It was the Gamemakers' trap. Come on, Azalea; we're in the arena. Let's get used to things like this happening."

She bobbed her head up and down in response, but still looked a bit worried. Per usual.

Suddenly, Lignite heard something that made him freeze in his tracks. It was scary; scarier than the thought of being crushed by a toppling tree in the dark forest of the arena because a Gamemaker trap's earthquake. It wasn't just _scary._ It was downright haunting, and he had never heard something creepier.

" _Lignite Parker."_

He whirled around, looking for the source. Unfortunately, it - or whatever it was - seemed to be a disembodied voice. "Lucky" him. The voice repeated itself: " _Lignite Parker."_

"What?!" Lignite snapped angrily, much louder than he intended to. Startled, Quince and Azalea had turned to face him. Azalea reached out to touch his arm in a comforting way. Lignite flinched, not used to being touched, so she dropped it. Azalea looked a bit unsettled but continued talking. "Are you okay?"

"I...I guess. Do you hear that?"

Quince spared him a confused glance. "What are you talking about? Did the insanity get to you?" He asked, nervous for what the response might be. All he himself could hear was the distant, nervous, twittering, chirping of birds as the earthquake continued on. Luckily, the rumbling of the arena was calming down a tad, to the point where it was almost just swaying the ground gently.

Lignite almost chuckled. "Nothing that severe." His laughter was soon cut short, as soon as he heard the same voice again.

" _Your life was spared...but only for now. You won't live much longer. You'll be painfully and mercilessly."_

"Are you _sure_ you didn't hear anything?" He asked once more, the mirth vanishing completely, replaced by fear. Lignite just wanted to clarify. How could _he_ hear a voice and others could not? Had the Capitol really advanced that far?

His two allies replied saying that they were certain, but they looked the slightest bit uncomfortable. Azalea was twisting a lock of straight, chocolate brown hair around her index finger while Quince was shifting his weight from foot to foot.

" _You only have days to live, Lignite."_ The voice spoke once more. Lignite winced just from the sound of it and tried to cover his ears with his hands. It did nothing to help the dread descending and the fear that clung to him like a life preserver. " _Make it count."_

The voice disappeared in a horrible laughter, the laughter of a dark, evil villain. And as the vocal slowly teetered away, Lignite thought he saw the mystical shape of a ghost.

A single ghost in the dark forest, vanishing in a purple aura. He thought it was magical, but not in a good way. Lignite wasn't even sure if it was _real._ Maybe it was just a figure of his imagination.

But one thing was certain, and it was for sure. He was going to die in a matter of days.

Lignite Parker only had a handful of 24 hours to live.

* * *

 **Dylan Tweed**

 _ **District Eight Male. 13 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,**_

 _ **Become so tired, so much more aware,**_

 _ **I'm becoming this, all I want to do,**_

 _ **Is be more like me and be less like you."**_

* * *

Everything seemed a bit weird to Dylan that very day. First, a major earthquake almost made everyone in his alliance die due to everyone almost being crushed by falling trees in their escape path. Second, Kinsie seemed to bit distant.

When he approached her and asked what was wrong, she just waved him off and shook her head, saying, "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." Maybe she was depressed. He certainly hoped not. Being in depression was not the correct state of mind for being in the arena. Maybe she was just lost in thought about District Five, and she was reminiscing all the memories. He hoped it was the latter.

Maybe she just didn't have a good night's sleep.

Whatever the reason, Kinsie also kept her distance from Rosie. _Especially_ Rosie. That seemed a little off, since Rosie was one of the most trustworthy figures in the alliance. If Dylan couldn't trust Rosie, he didn't know _who_ to trust. After all, he had a liking and appeal to her because she - along with Casimir - were the ones to take him in.

He didn't bother asking Kinsie what was wrong again. She was going to open up sometime eventually...right? Plus, he eventually had better things to worry about. Careers were lurking about, and not the mention the other tributes who were making a comeback in the Games.

Dylan thought he heard some sort of buzzing in the distance, but he decided against it to tell anyone. It might've just been a figure of his imagination. He also didn't want to be responsible for causing confusion throughout the alliance if he wa wrong, which he probably was.

 _It's nature._ He told himself. _Think of insects and bumblebees._

Somehow, he managed to not convince himself. The buzzing seemed a bit unnatural, which seemed odd but for his heart racing fast out of anxiety. Was he going to die?

Dylan opened his mouth to report to Rosie what he heard, but was distracted and interrupted as Kinsie gave him a hard shove and sent him sprawling in the dirt.

He looked up in surprise and tried to push himself onto his elbows. Did Kinsie really have him so much? Should he have not asked her what was wrong?

However, none of those were right. Kinsie screamed, "Duck!" and ducked down low herself as a swarm of tracker jackers flew to right where Dylan was standing a second ago. _Tracker jackers!_

Rosie quietly whispered, "They're like poisonous bees. Stay away from their stingers."

Casey whimpered softly and nervously. She had seen them two years ago, in the 74th Hunger Games. It was the cause of the District One Female, Glimmer's death. She looked absolutely dreadful, lying there on the ground with her body all blown up from where the tracker jackers had stunt her. Casey has had nightmares about these foul creatures at night after she had watched the 74th Hunger Games clip. Could the tracker jackers be making a comeback?

"Back away slowly." Kinsie said out of the corner of her mouth, trying not to attract any attention to herself. The rest of the alliance proceeded to follow her instructions, tiptoeing backwards, their feet not making a sound.

However, the tracker jackers weren't programmed to be clueless. They soon realized their targets had been missing in action, and "looked around" (or as much as a tracker jacker _can_ look around) before chasing after the alliance, which they had spotted. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Dylan sprinted. He felt like he wasn't even moving, and the tracker jackers kept coming. They were sure fast…

His legs turned to lead and his knees turned to jelly. He was staring at the face of death...literally. A tracker jacker was right up in his face, about to sting his right cheek.

Dylan closed his eyes and tried to draw his final breath.

But a hard yank on his arm brought him back to reality. It was Casey - she had come back for him. That was the good news.

Unfortunately, she was now dragging him through the dirt in attempt to save him. Dylan's cries for her to release him, because he was hitting his head on every pebble and twig, were unheard as she sprinted to save both of their lives.

But Casey couldn't hold on for a long time, of course. She herself had a nimble frame and was quick when she ran, but Dylan was a thirteen year old boy whose weight was added to hers. Panting, she came to a stop and finally released him from her clutches. "You're going to be okay?"

Dylan nodded, springing to his feet quicker than a heartbeat. "Now come on!" He urged. "The jackers are catching up."

With renewed energy, they both ran like they were just shot out of a cannon. Casey was more lithe than him, so she was up in the front, while Dylan was bringing up the rear. Rosie and Kinsie were still way ahead of them, but he still could catch sight of them. He felt a twinge of anger toward him that they didn't come back from him, too, but attempted not to let it bubble to the surface. After all, it wasn't like they had much of a choice. They obviously couldn't risk dying while trying to save another alliance member, as one dying was better than everyone dying. And Kinsie _had_ saved his life by pushing him to the ground.

He now felt indebted to Casey and Kinsie for life.

Nevertheless, the tracker jackers pushed on through the dark woods and pursued them, not stopping in their chase. They seemed to know exactly where they were travelling, and Dylan once more resented the Capitol, especially the Gamemakers. They were the cause of all of this, and they deserved to suffer. He had told Azalea back the night before the Games that if he managed to get out of the arena and the Districts won a rebellion against the Capitol, he would start a Capitol-based Hunger Games. It totally wasn't fair that they didn't get to suffer through what they had to. The Capitol had always been stingy.

Dylan knew the tracker jackers were getting close, judging from the crescendo of their buzzing. It was getting louder, and louder, and louder until they were almost catching up to him.

Casey now turned on the speed and had enough stamina to push herself faster. Dylan, however, _lacked_ stamina. He heaved a large amount of air, and ran to a stop as he tried to fill his lungs with oxygen.

The mutts were having none of that, of course. They were hungry for bloodlust, and wanted to give the Capitol their entertainment. They surrounded Dylan in a circle, and fanned out so there was no possible escaped available. All his options, and luck, had ran out. He froze. He considered his options. He could call out for his alliance, but what good what that do, when they could all risk getting killed? Once again, one ally dying was better than everyone. He could try escaping, but would most likely be caught up to straight away. The only other option left was death.

He had no choice.

Everyone back home told Dylan that he would always have a choice in life. He would always have to keep doing the right things and he would always try to never be tempted by the wrong path. But in the end, did that all really matter? It was _fate._ He couldn't change that.

Right now, his fate was to die as thirteen years old, in the 76th Annual Hunger Games, as Dylan Tweed. If he was ever reborn back into Panem, he hoped he wouldn't go through this experience again.

Without any Casey Taurus to rescue him a second time, Dylan closed his dark brown eyes for the last time and let death welcome him with open arms. _Boom._

* * *

 **Isobel Wild**

 _ **District Eleven Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **And now, I don't wanna take you if we fall down, don't get upset,**_

 _ **And now, is just the beginning,**_

 _ **And we'll figure it out somehow,**_

 _ **Right now, masquerade."**_

* * *

It was a pretty hectic morning. First, an earthquake, and second, a cannon just went off. She secretly hoped it wasn't Quince's cannon, for he had been a good District Partner. Maybe it was that young troublemaker, Kinsie. Was it a Career's cannon? Isobel highly doubted it, but hoped she was right.

Loud shouts of celebration to her right sprung her back to reality. _Loud shouts of celebration...the Careers!_ Isobel thought frantically. That equalled death either way for her. Was her luck so low that she would die in the hands of the _Careers?_ The people whom she turned down her invitation to? If they spotted her, she was _so_ dead.

She ducked behind a tree and thought about her choices that were available. It was too risky to kill them, so that was out. After all, she might die herself. And she didn't want to kill any more people. Louis...she choked up. _Don't even think about it._ She had to be strong, she had to be brave, just thinking of him.

Pushing her foul thoughts aside, she decided that she should try and run. Unless they had night vision goggles, which they probably did, they wouldn't be able to see her and she would run out of there for all she was worth.

But something kept her grounded, rooted right to that same spot. For some reason, she wanted to stay and listen in for a little while. She would run later.

 _Go!_ She chided herself. But she still didn't move any signs of moving. She wanted to see what they were up to.

A voice, that she thought was Clarence's husky, low voice, said, "One more step closer to victory!" The rest of Careers cheered in agreement, not bothering to be quiet. Isobel rolled her eyes. They always followed whatever Clarence did, and they were like his mimes or something. And they thought they ruled the arena, or that the other tributes didn't stand a chance against them. They were _so_ full of themselves.

Another voice that sounded syrupy sweet, whom she identified as Jayda's, purred, "I hope it was that upstart, Isobel. She turned down our offer, and she deserves to die."

Isobel flinched, but still didn't regret not joining the Careers. Jayda, unknowing that Isobel was lurking nearby, continued. "Or that Eudora Macintosh. She didn't have much of a chance from the start."

The District Eleven tribute didn't dare make a move. She didn't want anyone to know that she was there, especially that now she knew the Careers wanted her to perish mercilessly. Isobel had made herself a huge target. She just wished this would all be over with. But no, the trouble was just beginning.

Suddenly, the Careers froze as a twig snapped in the distance. Ebony told them, "I'll go out to scout." Clarence nodded in approval, and the blonde girl vanished to check out what the fuss was all about. The Careers waited, weapons at the ready just in case anything happened.

After waiting several, silent minutes, Vulcan finally snapped. "What's taking her so long? It was just a twig. Twigs snap _all_ the time. I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this."

Clarence regarded him coolly, narrowing his eyes. "Perhaps we should rethink your position on the Career Pack."

Vulcan scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not attempt anything else that would make Clarence angrier. After all, he had common sense and common sense knew that you shouldn't mess with Clarence Reiss, _ever._

Ebony reappeared moments afterward, but was oddly approaching with silence. Once she reached her alliance, she whispered quietly to Clarence, "I found something, all right. But it's Celine...and she doesn't look like her normal self."

Hestia tensed up, when she heard _the name._ Hestia now hated Celine, and everything she stood for, because she managed to escape the Bloodbath when she was going to kill her. The District Two Female was anxious to get along with it. "So what are you afraid of? It's just Celine. Let's go kill her!"

Ebony argued, "Something's just not right. It's like she's possessed or something."

 _Possessed?_ Isobel thought. _This arena is creepier than I thought. Was it a spirit or ghost of some sort?_

Clarence calmly made orders. "Well, let's go check it out. We'll split into two teams of three. Jayda, you go with Vulcan and Ebony. I'll go with Hestia and Bay. My team will approach from behind while Jayda, yours can distract her."

Isobel now knew how Clarence was appointed leader of the Pack. He obviously knew what he was doing, and was totally in control.

The two teams went their own ways, with Clarence's team tiptoeing silently so they wouldn't get caught. Fortunately for them, Celine was too distracted to notice anything. She looked a bit...well, _crazy._ In a very, very bad way. All traces and remnants of that past Celine had vanished and disappeared completely.

Isobel crept and ducked behind more trees so she could have a better view, and be closer to the action without getting caught. She was close enough to Celine that she could hear the young redhead muttering words: "Annette...took control...kill everything...kill everyone."

The 16 year took a step backwards in horror. This was most definitely _not_ the Celine she could remember. It wasn't the Celine who always had a bright smile on her facial features, and it wasn't the Celine who always had a bounce in her step. It was as if Rowan's death drove her mad or something.

A soft rustling of the leaves nearby snapped Isobel thought of her thoughts. With a start, she realized, horrified, that she had forgotten the Careers were coming. And they could spot her any moment now!

With nothing better to do, Isobel braced herself tightly. She gripped the bark of the tree she was hiding behind with both hands, earning splinters. Then she took in a deep breath, and hoisted herself up.

Isobel was in a mad frenzy to scramble up the tree. If she got caught, and by the _Careers,_ her life would probably be over within the next thirty seconds.

Looking down as she was halfway up to a sturdy branch, she felt no fear of the heights. Luckily, living in District Eleven had helped her a lot with the skill of climbing trees. What _did_ fear her, though, was the fact that Jayda's team had burst into the area, right in front of Celine.

Isobel feared for her life. But fortunately for her, Jayda, Vulcan, and Ebony were too focused on their goal that they didn't look up. If the trio _did_ look up, however, they would probably find Isobel, silently climbing up a tall tree. Isobel dared not to make a sound, as she would die if she did. She tried to keep moving, though. Any progress was good progress.

Jayda grabbed Celine by her flaming, bright auburn hair, and yanked her close. "You know what they say." The District One Female said. "Keep your friends close, and keep your enemies closer."

Celine, dazed, looked up. "I will kill...you…" She replied slowly, a haunting, eerie look on her face. Isobel thought that Ebony was definitely correct when she said Celine looked possessed. Something was absolutely wrong.

Vulcan laughed sarcastically. "You can't. We're the Careers."

"Annette will...kill...you."

Ebony snarled. "Is Annette your sister or something? I hate to break it to you, honey, but she isn't here. Newsflash: No one can protect you now, not from the wrath of the Careers."

Isobel was distracted by the offense team's tauntings that she didn't notice Clarence's clan slyly sneaking up until last second. They seriously had skills. Celine opened her mouth to say something, but no noise came out as she fell to the ground, a combination of shock and surprise written all over her face.

Bay's spear was sticking out of her back, and the sharp tip was pushed in deep. Isobel didn't believe that it could be possibly true, that she witnessed death a second time without doing anything to stop the killers. But there was no denying it after a single cannon rung out, confirming that Celine was officially dead. Isobel felt a wet, cold tear running down the right side of her face. That tear turned to a torrent of tears, and she silently wept as she stared at the young girl's body.

Celine Woodman didn't deserve that.

Bay pulled out the spear, long and slow. It was agonizing to watch the spear being pulled out of her body, coated in the 14 year old's blood. When he was done, he waved the weapon in the air in triumph like it was a victory flag. "Another kill for the Careers!" He declared in a happy tone. Isobel couldn't believe her own ears as she listened to Bay, who she thought was someone who should could trust, saying he killed someone in a _happy_ tone.

The Careers yelled in the same ecstatic tone, clapping him on the back in excitement. One step closer to going home.

They soon departed the area, leaving to hunt some more tributes. Isobel was the only one left. After a while, she just sat on a sturdy branch that would support her weight, and she simply stared at Celine.

Celine's hair, a trademark of hers, was splayed out on the ground in a circle around her head. Her eyes were wide open. Her mouth was also still open, as she was about to say her final words before she was killed. Blood coated the dirt ground near her. It was gory and horrifying. Yet Isobel couldn't tear her eyes away from the violent sight. It was majestic in a dark, magical way.

Isobel whispered to herself, just loud enough so her vocal chords could reach her ears, "Bay, I thought I could trust you. But I was wrong. I was wrong about _everything._ " Another tear ran down her face, and she didn't stop it or wipe it away as it fell off her cheek and splattered her cargo jeans. "You can't trust a Career."

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Lignite Parker: "** _ **Dream"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

 **Dylan Tweed: "** _ **Numb"**_ **(sung by** _ **Linkin Park)**_

 **Isobel Wild:** " _ **Masquerade"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nicki Minaj)**_

* * *

 _ **18th: Dylan Tweed - D8M - I seriously did not want to kill Dylan off. Period. He was a character who everyone loved. I really thought he was too young to die. He was just a regular boy, who lived a normal, everyday life before the Games, and he didn't deserve a death so painful. Dylan was one of my favorite characters, and he will be missed so, so much. I'm sorry, Reader Castellan…**_

* * *

 _ **17th: Celine Woodman - D7F - Celine, Celine, Celine. She was**_ **such** _**a fabulous character. She was so easy to write, and you can't imagine how thrilled I was when I was sent her form. She was also one of my favorites. Annette made her such an interesting character, and I'm so sorry, dreams and desperation, that I had to kill her off. If I could, I would make her my Victor, but realistically thinking she probably wouldn't have made it. Everyone probably hates me now that I killed her, but once again, I'm so sorry. She will live on in our hearts, forever.**_

* * *

 **I almost cried while writing this chapter. It was one of the saddest chapters I've ever posted, because I killed off two of my favorite tributes. Celine was simply amazing, and Dylan was so young and innocent. I hope all of y'all will keep reading after that heartbreaking chapters…*smiles innocently***

 **Anyway, who are the tributes you are rooting for now? Which tributes are you surprised are still alive? Let me know in the reviews section.**

 **We're down to Top 16, so please keep reading. I can't wait until you can see who I chose for the Victor! You might be pleasantly surprised…**

 **May the odds be ever in our favor!**

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

 **Kinsie Surge**

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

 **Casey Taurus**

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	32. Chapter 32 - Day Two Part Two

**Chapter 32 - Posted on ( 5/19/16)**

* * *

 **Quince Lazarre**

 _ **District Eleven Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **As a child you would wait,**_

 _ **And watch from far away.**_

 _ **But you always knew that you'd be the one,**_

 _ **That work while they all play."**_

* * *

A hush had fallen over the arena, signalling the action for the day was almost over. And there certainly had been plenty of action; earthquake, and two cannons going off just a few minutes apart from each other. Quince wondered exactly who had died. Was it Dylan or Kinsie, the two youngest tributes in the Games that as far as he knew, were still alive? Could it be Delia Montgomery, who didn't seem be show much skill whereas she mostly just flaunted her looks? Who knew?

Quince sat on the ground and was just staring into space, thinking deeply life. He hadn't really gotten a chance, in all of his 18 years, to appreciate it until now. It was short, he realized. That was why you had to smile and be happy all the time.

Well, his brother Minoru had certainly wasted his chance. There he was, in District Eleven with a wife but apart from the rest of his family. Minoru had done what made him happy, but with the ultimate price of losing his loved ones. He was alone and in the dark. He and Minoru both were.

Azalea, and Lignite, were both just staring as well. They were silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Quince seemed like he knew all about them, even just from sitting in silence with them.

He shifted his thoughts from his family to his alliance to think about them more deeply. Thinking about them made him think about the earthquake. He remembered, the dreadful feeling of waking up to it, and how the ground was rumbling. How he thought he wasn't going to live…

Quince thought he knew why he wasn't going to live. It was because Azalea and Lignite were slowing him down. Sure, he cared about them and all, but it was just kind of hard to deal with the natural disaster when they both were running behind him, slow as snails. He couldn't run as fast as he usually would, because he had to make sure he was in their view and all that. The thing was, he led a hard life back in District Eleven, and he always did work. That very work had shaped and sculpted him into the young man he was today; it helped physically and emotionally.

Quince thought he was going crazy. But no, it was the truth; his alliance was slowing him down. He just didn't want to admit it to himself.

He thought about calling off the alliance, the easiest option. But what would that do? He was the one who made it, after all. He couldn't just abandon it. After all, Lignite and Azalea would probably stay together and leave him out. If they came across him they would most likely kill him. He would just have to deal with the duo, the hard option, then.

But if he was going to deal with them, he had to make sure he was taking charge. That meant, in short: No more Mr. Nice Guy. That old Quince Lazarre was gone, replaced by the new Quince. 2.0.

He stood up abruptly, causing Azalea and Lignite to look at him in surprise. One minute he was sitting, and now he was standing. What was going on with him?

Azalea stood up, too. "Quince, are you okay?" She rested her hand on his shoulder. He resisted the urge to brush it off, but he couldn't let them know that he _wasn't_ okay.

He flashed a smile, which he was sure looked like a very fake grimace as he never had been the acting type, but he did it anyway. "Nope, I'm fine - but thanks for asking."

"Do you need anything?" She asked again. Curse Azalea and her kindness! Now Quince was doubting the fact that "no Mr. Nice Guy" was a bad idea. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Azalea relaxed visibly. "Well, let me know if you do."

"Actually-" Quince began, but cut himself off. What was he thinking? Now he had to make up something to make sure no one thought he was suspicious or something.

Lignite and Azalea inclined their heads at him, wanting to know the answer. Quince believed that the whole factor that Lignite could hear something and they could not was still a bit weird, but Lignite had seemed sincere. Something really was up with this arena. Quince would've even settled for a coal mine, just not this!

"Well," He began, stalling for time to think of something. Luckily, Quince did well under pressure and thought quickly. "I think we should move to another spot. This place is giving me the creeps."

He felt relieved when his allies didn't notice anything suspicious. Yep, Quince _was_ a bad liar. At least he was actually telling the truth; this place _was_ giving him the creeps. If he wasn't telling the truth, he probably wouldn't have pulled it off.

 _But it's true that I probably have to take charge of the alliance, if they like it for not._ He thought, a frown growing on his features. _World, welcome Quince Lazarre 2.0._

* * *

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

 _ **District Nine Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm just a believer that things will get better,**_

 _ **Some can take it,**_

 _ **Or leave it,**_

 _ **But I don't wanna let it go."**_

* * *

The alliance was down to three people: Kinsie, Casey, and herself. Just after two days in the cataclysmic arena, and Rosie had lost everything she cared about: Casimir, Dylan, and her sanity.

She still couldn't get over Dylan's death. The tracker jackers had seemingly disappeared after the young boy's slaughter, so they were out of danger. At least she hoped.

No matter how hard Rosie had it, Casey was having it even worse. The 18 year old seemed to think it was her own fault. Casey was going into shock or depression. That wasn't good. Not good at all. It wasn't right that she would be that way - especially since it wasn't any of their fault. Casey blamed herself for not being able to hold onto Dylan longer. Truth be told, she was worrying too much. Dylan's death still left the trio's hearts aching but they couldn't do anything about it.

He was gone.

As for Kinsie, she didn't seemed exactly disappointed, upset, or angry. She was just acting a bit more secluded and hesitant than usual. Kinsie seemed to stray away from everyone else, and had looked a bit guilty and regretful when Dylan's cannon had rang throughout the entire arena. Rosie didn't get what the problem was. She hoped Kinsie trusted her enough to confide what she was feeling. Something just wasn't right after that first night in the arena.

Maybe during when everyone was sleeping, Kinsie saw something that traumatized her beyond her twelve year old existence. That was Rosie's educated guess. Kinsie was a spitfire, loquacious girl whose mouth never really stopped moving. The District Five citizen implied the vibe that she wasn't open for talking. Great; Rosie had nobody to turn to in the alliance anymore.

Kinsie sighed deeply and took a glance around her surroundings. Rosie squinted through the darkness to try to get a better view that would help her see better. At night, the arena seemed to get even _darker_ , if that was even possible. The only light shining through was the dim, faded light of the stars and the haunting slivers of light from the moon. Rosie noted that it was a full moon. That probably explained why everyone was pretty much going to the extent of _crazy._ That, and the creepy arena. Everything in the arena seemed to have an eerie touch to it. Even the trees looked like it had a certain bloodlust. Those creepy branches that looked like hands kept swaying in the breeze…

Rosie was getting in way over her head.

Kinsie seemed to be suspicious of something, though. Her eyebrows knit together over her brown eyes in a frown. Something was up. "Can I use those night vision goggles real quick, Rosie?" Kinsie asked, without making eye contact. Those were the first words she had uttered all day.

Feeling as confused as Casey looked by Kinsie's behavior, Rosie's hands flew up to her neck, where she kept the goggles in case of emergency. She tugged it off, and handed it over to the twelve year old. Kinsie strapped it on over her eyes.

"Whoa. This is so cool…" Her voice trailed off as she faced the area she was facing when she thought she saw something. Under the goggles, which made Kinsie look like a swimmer, her eyes widened and she staggered back, as if she was sucker punched.

"Kinsie!" Casey sprang to action, as usual. That girl had good reflexes. Casey steadied the young girl with ease, supporting her. Kinsie had a mix of disbelief, surprise, and betrayal on her face, with a hint of anger. Whatever Kinsie saw must've made her really upset. Casey, curious to see what was going on, pried the goggles off Kinsie gently and put them on.

Rosie was normally patient, but was anxious to hear what was there. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Only a few seconds after Casey began looking through, she asked, "Can you see anything?"

Kinsie, who Casey had set down on the ground, yelled, "No, Casey! Don't get involved. It's not about _you."_ The old Kinsie was coming back with every minute. She rose up on her elbows and tried to grab the goggles off Casey's face. Casey was simply too tall, while Kinsie was still a blossoming adolescent. The latter couldn't reach.

Rosie tapped her foot out of impatience before asking Casey again. "What do you see?"

Casey responded this time, all the while pulling off her goggles and handing them to Kinsie, who therefore and in return took them with a _harrumph._ "I...I don't know. It was a man or something."

Kinsie snorted. "I'll go kill...whatever it is." She scooped up her knife from the ground, but before she could move, Rosie suggested, "I'll go with you."

Kinsie seemed horrified by that idea. "I don't know if that's a good-"

Rosie cut her off, insisting. "Please. You can't go alone."

Kinsie seemed to be in some kind of dilemma. She contemplated for a bit, until finally releasing a long, weary sigh like she was annoyed. "Fine."

The younger girl started off, speed-walking towards the 'man' like she wanted to get away from Rosie and Casey as soon as possible. The 16 year old and 18 year old exchanged puzzled glances, but Rosie ran to catch up with her ally nevertheless.

Kinsie ignored Rosie as she walked at the fast pace. They were getting closer and closer to the 'man', and though they didn't show it, they were both getting increasingly more nervous and anxious. And finally, they got their first look up close.

It was balded man, built with a thick structure. He looked angry and mad, and his arms were crossed. Rosie couldn't place why he looked slightly familiar, though she was certain that she had never seen him before in her life.

Rosie stopped in her tracks, but Kinsie kept walking. Rosie tried to gesture and warn her ally back, but when she opened her mouth, Kinsie did something had surprised her out of her mind.

Kinsie scowled and scoffed at the man, like she was regarding a dead bug on the ground. She crossed her arms as well. "So we meet again, _Dad."_ Kinsie spat, like _Dad_ was a bad word.

Rosie further froze and inspected the man from head to toe. That was why he looked familiar! Kinsie looked a lot like him. The slight upturn of the lips, the permanently raised eyebrows, and the naughty glint in the eyes. Every bit of information Rosie remembered along the way came back to her. Kinsie was talking about peace, family, and forgiveness at the night of the interviews! " _My mother and father started fighting more and more. I knew that the fights were centered around me. My mother turned fragile and was afraid I would get Reaped, too. My father turned verbally abusive and mean to everyone. Soon enough, they split up. Before I was Reaped it was just me and my mom, together against the world. Now she's husbandless and childless, though she started off with a happy family. And that's how a family is broken. Hope, dreams, and Faith is destroyed. If I win the Games, I will take up the oath to mend my family. To stitch the bonds back together. And that, my friends, is what I will do if I win the 76th Annual Hunger Games."_

Kinsie had always seemed too reluctant to talk about her family. Was this the abusive father she was talking about?

Kinsie's father took a step toward her. His daughter matched his moves by taking a step back. "Kinsie, that's no way to address your father. I helped give you _life._ And you still _dare_ treat me with disrespect? I'll show you what disrespect is, young lady!"

He reached out his arm and grabbed Kinsie's brown hair, which was flowing out of the base of her ponytail. With one hard yank, Kinsie cried out in fear and tried to resist. Mr. Surge yanked it again, this time even _harder,_ and Kinsie yelled a 'pleasant', 'colorful' word choice at her parental unit.

Rosie couldn't believe she was still watching, from a distance, and she hadn't done anything. Kinsie had pre-warned her not to get involved, but Rosie also couldn't bear to see one of her friends in pain and misery. Making a quick resolution mentally, Rosie launched herself in between the two brawling family members.

But the weirdest thing happened next.

Mr. Surge didn't even notice Rosie.

That was weird. She was standing right in front of him, but somehow he didn't see her. And the second weirdest thing happened, too - his arms passed right through her, as if she wasn't really there. Rosie looked down at her body. Yep, she was still there, alive and breathing. She wasn't dissolving or anything. Mr. Surge wasn't made of mist, was a ghost, or had magical powers. He was solid, and Rosie was confused. But one thing was absolutely certain.

The Mr. Surge mutt was programmed to only keep the fight between himself and Kinsie.

As Rosie was distracted by trying to figure out her situation, she failed to notice how one of Kinsie's father's hands, the one that wasn't occupied with anything, began creeping to his pocket as if there was something there.

Rosie moved out of the way helplessly, because there wasn't anything she could do about it. All she could do was hope for the best and hope Kinsie would win the battle.

But Mr. Surge had an unfair, evil advantage that would tip all the scales in the fight.

His hand emerged from his pocket, but this time, it was holding something dangerous and lethal. Rosie stood, frozen again, as he pulled it out at an agonizingly slow pace, trying to draw out the suspense. Kinsie noticed it too, and began to thrash frantically, but his grip on her hair was much too tight.

The metal of the object glinted off of the bright moonlight, and it shimmered dangerously. Kinsie began to sob, her thrashing soon forgotten. "Rosie, I'm sorry…" She wailed.

And those were the last words Kinsie would ever utter, as Mr. Surge's knife skewered her chest deeply. Mr. Surge set her on the ground and walked away, no remorse or any emotion at all shown on his face.

Rosie could only stare in horror, absolute horror, as Kinsie's face began to lose its color. The blood pumped out of her wound rapidly, and even if Rosie had herbs, she had nothing she could do about it.

The cannon rung moments later, and Rosie's vision turned red. She was angry, frustrated, and done with the Capitol. It wasn't fair, how they could manipulate everyone. Casey came running to both of their side soon after, but gasped and began crying as Kinsie lay dying on the unforgiving arena floor.

The alliance was down to two.

* * *

 **Roy Lentz**

 _ **District Five Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a survivor (what?)  
I'm not gon' give up (what?)  
I'm not gon' stop (what?)  
I'm gon' work harder (what?)"**_

* * *

Another cannon off, meaning only fifteen tributes left in the arena. If Roy wanted to stay alive and become Victor, that meant he had to try to kill fourteen of those fifteen. And he'd be the one left standing.

Soon, the sky lit up an unnatural aquamarine or teal blue color, and the Capitol seal flashed in the sky. He sighed in relief; no immediate danger. It was just the faces in the night sky phase of the arena day. Hopefully, no one he really cared about would've died today. He had counted three cannons.

What he saw next made all of the air rush out of his lungs.

It was Kinsie. Kinsie Surge.

Kinsie Surge; survivor, youngest tribute in the Games, his District Partner, and - dare he say it - _friend._ She was in the sky, amongst all of the stars, her face snarling and smirking at whoever had taken her picture. She was dead. She was _gone._ She had...died.

Roy leaned against a nearby tree for support. That was why he had tried not to make any friends. Not to express any emotions. But he simply couldn't help making friends with Kinsie.

She was strong, brave, sarcastic, and courageous. Everything he was not. And she was gone, gone, gone. Her cannon had been amongst one of the three that rang on this second day.

Her face soon vanished from the point of the sky where she had been a second earlier - a cruel reminder of what was _really_ gone. Roy fought back tears, promising himself that if he became Victor, he would try to mend Kinsie's family back together _for_ her.

Roy noticed how the last time he cried was when his mother died.

He pushed his thoughts aside, however, when the next face in the sky appeared. It threw him off kilter for a moment, but this death wasn't as surprising as Kinsie's. It was Celine Woodman, District Seven Female. He always knew there was something about Celine, but just couldn't place it. He also felt pretty bad for her. District Seven was out.

The last one, he was expecting. It was Dylan Tweed, District Eight Male. But he was only a 13 year old, who didn't really stand much of a chance. Roy wondered that happened there, to cause his death. He recalled that Dylan belonged to an alliance with Rosemary Fields, Casey Taurus, Casimir Moretti, and Kinsie. Now that alliance was only down to Casey and Rosie.

The Capitol anthem rang out across the arena again, signalling it was over. Roy slumped down to the ground, just to think about the tributes.

He noted how there were no Career deaths yet. That meant, Clarence, Jayda, Vulcan, Hestia, Bay, and Ebony were still lurking around somewhere. It was wasn't fair how they killed so many people and they didn't get a chance to suffer.

Roy got the worst, and best idea in the history of the Games at that very moment. He was putting his life on the line, but it was all that he got. If he pulled this off, he maybe could have a chance of surviving the 76th Annual Hunger Games.

He would capture a Career.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Quince Lazarre: "** _ **Warriors"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields: "** _ **Believer"**_ **(sung by** _ **American Authors)**_

 **Roy Lentz: "** _ **Survivor"**_ **(sung by** _ **Destiny's Child)**_

* * *

 _ **16th: Kinsie Surge - D5F - I really didn't want to kill Kinsie off. She was also one of my favorites, and she was absolutely**_ **amazing.** _**Kinsie was, as Roy stated in his P.O.V, a survivor. She was only a 12 year old but she had witnessed too much. Kinsie was strong and brave and she was, again, one of my favorites. I didn't want to kill her off, as I said before, but it had to be. I'm so sorry, Kinsie. You're with your mother now…**_

* * *

 **There you have it, folks; the next chapter! I'm fairly sure you all detest me more now, since I killed off Kinsie. I'm sorry about that…**

 **Anyway, I'm glad to see 337 reviews. All of you guys are the best! You readers are awesome! I can't believe my first ever Fanfiction got this far. Do you think my writing has improved since the beginning?**

 **What do you think, now that Rosie and Casey are the only ones left in their alliance? There are 15 people left in the arena now, so who do you predict will die next? Who do you think will be Victor? Which Career do you think Roy will try to capture?**

 **That's all for now. Thanks, and bye!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

 **Casey Taurus**

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	33. Chapter 33 - Day Three Part One

**Chapter 33 - Posted on ( 5/20/16)**

* * *

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 _ **District Two Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being**_

 _ **Confident."**_

* * *

Vulcan was absolutely, certainly _done_ with this nonsense. Yesterday, was waking up to an earthquake. Then, Bay got a kill yesterday and he didn't. And Clarence was a benefactor to the problem, since he was considering kicking Vulcan out of the Pack. Being a tribute in the Games was not what he had anticipated and fantasized, back in District Two.

And now, he had to address an even larger problem: waking up to another Gamemaker trap.

He sat up. Vulcan knew something was about to happen, so he stood and gripped his tomahawk. All of his allies were still sleeping, but it wasn't like he cared much about him anyway. The light of something circular illuminated the dark forest arena as it fell from the sky. His first thought was, _a sponsor parachute?_ But no, he was wrong. He realized his situation too late. It wasn't just any circular thing of light. It was a _fireball._

As more fell out of the sky, he made it _fireballs._ One exploded at the ground near his feet, and Vulcan jumped back to avoid getting a nice, big third-degree burn. He was forced into a dilemma, with two options. The first one was to leave his so-called allies behind and run for his life - with nothing to slow him down. Then their cannons would ring and the immediate threats would be out…

His second choice was to wake them up so they could get out of this all in one piece. Maybe that would be a wiser choice. Maybe he still _needed_ them.

Well, it didn't matter much now. Jayda was waking up groggily. He could tell because she shifted onto her side and tried to get into a comfortable position. However, _comfortable_ was not a choice of words in the arena. Vulcan came to common sense and knew he had to alert someone of the strange going-ons in the arena.

He sighed in defeat to himself and walked over to the blonde female, taking careful steps not to wake anyone else in his alliance up. He proceeded to shake her to get her up and moving. It may not have been a polite way to wake Jayda up, but it was a forceful way that was going to wake her up.

Sure enough, it worked. All at the same time, Jayda's eyes shot open, she sat up, and she tried to grab for her dual swords on the ground next to her. She soon stopped when she realized it was just Vulcan, though. Her eyes focused on his face. "What do you want, Hardy?" Jayda asked him, still being wary of him waking her up.

Vulcan whispered, "Arena trap."

He stepped back and let the District One Female see for herself. Once Jayda took note of the fireballs and the reeking stench of putrid smoke filling the air, she sprang up and gathered her materials. "We have to move to a clearing or back to the Cornucopia. Go wake up the others. If a fireball hits a tree, immediate forest fire there." As if on cue, a fireball crashed into the tree beside them, causing it to start to burn up. They didn't have much time.

He nodded in return to her instructions and began to kick the others awake. Once again, not a polite way, but they all got ready once they inhaled the smoggy air.

Clarence took over from there. "Let's get out of here, now! Try to find a clearing. Follow my lead!" He took off at the quick sprint. The rest of the Pack followed behind him, trying not to take in too much smoke into their lungs. They were lucky for the burning light enlightening the arena like a candle, so they could see a path. Clarence dodged a burning ball and everyone followed in suite. Even how skilled they were, their lives were on the line, and they had to make sure they stayed alive.

Vulcan was bringing up the rear of the group, in the very back. He did a headcount of the people in front of him. Clarence, of course, was leading the group. Right on his heels was Hestia, who was clenching and unclenching her free hand that was not holding the machete. Running alongside her was Bay, who had his spear out and was ready to go in case of an emergency. Ebony and Jayda were behind them, sprinting and weaving through the trees.

Vulcan noticed a fireball flying at him from the edge of his peripheral vision, and ducked. However, Hestia was not so lucky. When a fireball fell out of the sky heading straight for _her,_ it managed to get her off kilter. She was simply unprepared for it. The blazing ball caught her on the right leg. Hestia fell over forward, screaming curses. The fire was distinguished quickly, but it had burned a hole through the fabric of her jeans, leaving her skin looking red, raw, and exposed. Clarence glanced back nervously but kept surging ahead. Everyone kept running, and no one gave any attempt to help her out. Vulcan did something that surprised himself. He picked up Hestia from the ground and slung her over his shoulder. He told her, "You're not dying on me, you know that?" On another note, he barely felt her weight added to his. He had spent enough time lifting weights back in District Two that he was muscular to withstand a lot of pressure.

Hestia's eyelids were fluttering, but she managed a smile in her weakened state. "Never thought I would die by a fireball. I thought I was better than that."

"You're _not_ going to die." Vulcan said, surprised by his calmness reflected in his own tone. He was also surprised at how forceful he sounded, as if he was verbally trying to take away Hestia's pain by willpower. He never thought he would grow to care for an ally, much luch be in the Hunger Games. But fate was unexpected. He knew one thing for certain: he just couldn't let Hestia die on him. He refused for that to happen.

He tested his navigation skills by trying to find the way that his other allies had took. Listening to the shouts and yells in the distance, it was easy to depict them as his allies' own. They were always quite the noisy bunch.

Vulcan went with his instincts. He followed the distant hollers of his allies, and eventually, he was swift enough that he managed to catch sight of them again. From what he could see, Jayda's arm was smoldering with a disgusting burn, that also left her skin fairly red and tingling. Though it wasn't as painful-looking as Hestia's, Vulcan winced. _That got to hurt._

Clarence, Bay, and Ebony didn't look as strained as the others. They dodged fireballs left and right with their nimble frames, and they managed to miraculously not get hit by anything. But, though they were holding up well for now, Vulcan knew they ought to get tired sooner or later. They couldn't keep up the game of cat-and-mouse forever.

Jayda's prediction about the forest fire was correct. Now several trees were burning and igniting off of one another. Given time, it would become a raging inferno. In his mind, Vulcan prayed to the lord of stopping fires, if even one existed. _Oh please, lord of stopping fires, let me survive this one. Please let us find a clearing._

No such luck. In fact, the very opposite occurred. A fireball slammed into a tree branch over his head, and Vulcan looked up just in time to see the broken, burning log about to connect with his head. He sprang out of the way with a renewed energy, and managed to get a speed boost along the way.

Soon enough, the Capitol must've been getting bored of the _entertainment_ they had been offering. The fireball quantity slowly dwindled down, until there were none left. The raging forest fire died out, too. Soon, there was no more immediate threats to deal with for now. All the Careers remained absolutely silent so the only thing that could be heard were the crickets chirping out a steady tune and an owl letting out occasional hoots.

Hestia broke the silence by letting out a low groan mixed with pain and misery. Vulcan set her down gently to the ground, making sure nothing made contact with her singed leg. Jayda sat down on the ground as well, gripping her arm like there was no tomorrow.

Bay got down on all fours and, with one look at Hestia's leg, he knew her life was in danger. "We need a sponsor, and quick." He said urgently. Vulcan rolled his eyes - as if _he_ could do anything about it. Meanwhile, Clarence inspected Jayda's arm.

"Jayda's not too bad off." He commented. "But we need a burn remedy and fast. Does anyone remember the way back to the Cornucopia?"

He glanced around, but everyone shook their heads. They had left their most of their supplies at that very place, but now they possibly couldn't get to it ever again.

Clarence sat down and leaned against a tree to wait. As did the others. Hopefully, their interviews had made an impression on the Capitol and if they meant anything to them at all, then they would get sponsored.

Almost immediately after they had sat to wait it out, a quiet _ping_ interrupted their thoughts. Vulcan looked up, and noticed a silver canister falling from the sky-filled sky. He reached up and grabbed it. Inspecting it more, he noted that the canister had a parachute connected to it. That simply confirmed that they had just gotten a sponsor!

Another one fell, and this time, Bay caught it. They both pried open the lids simultaneously, and at the same time, both males found burn remedies inside of their sponsor gifts.

Clarence grabbed it out of Vulcan's hand to make sure it was the real thing. Yep, it was. Now he could use it to heal Jayda and Hestia!

He leaned down to Hestia first, whose burn looked a lot worse than his own District Partner's. Clarence told her quietly, "This might sting, but I know you can handle it, because you're a Career." Hestia nodded weakly. She didn't have much time left, and she therefore needed Clarence to speed things up quicker.

As gentle as Vulcan had ever seen him, Clarence popped open the lid to the burn remedy cream and dabbed some onto Hestia's wound. She gasped, most likely from the unexpected pain, but she gave the sign that she was doing okay. He continued on, applying the remedy until she looked okay enough.

It was Jayda's turn next. Jayda didn't seem hurt by the burn, but only mildly annoyed. She insisted on applying the cream herself, so she took the container. Clarence stood up and did another little head count. But soon, Vulcan noticed that in the small light they had in this arena, that Clarence had paled.

"What is it?"

" _Where's Ebony?"_

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel,**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

Azalea wasn't accustomed to the arena yet.

She had been in stuck here for three days, and she wasn't ready. The main problem contributing to that was that she was hungry.

Back home in District Eight, her family had run that store, and so she was always pretty well-off. Azalea was never hungry back then. She could mostly have anything she ever wanted, but she wasn't _that_ needy. Back then, she had always considering it of kind of a good thing that she was pretty rich. But now, she hated the fact that she was rich before, and for a good reason.

It was because Azalea wasn't used to being starved and in need of food.

Now that she was in the arena, Azalea wished that she had a different backstory. Maybe she could've been a girl disowned by her parents who had to steal and live on the streets. Maybe she could've been an orphan who lived all alone with no one to support her. Maybe she could've been a girl who committed a serious crime and was sent to jail. If Azalea was at least one of the above, then she would've been used to being hungry and she wouldn't feel like she was being eaten away by famishness.

Being one of the above would've been a plus, as well, so maybe she would've have to deal with the guilt of picking away at the popular kids. She had made a mistake and she really wished she hadn't. At least in the arena, Azalea could turn over a new leaf and start fresh. No tribute in here knew that she had ridiculed people in attempt to be friends with them.

No one knew about the bad things she had done in her lifetime, back in District Eight.

Speaking of the arena and its tributes, Azalea thought about her alliance. And when she thought about her alliance, she thought about _Quince._

 _Okay, don't get me wrong. I love Quince as a friend, but there's something different about him that I just can't place._ It was true. Quince had started off as a nice companion to be with, but yesterday things had all fallen apart. All in one big clump. Quince had changed, and for the worse. He had become harsher and more straightforward to her and Lignite, nothing like the old Quince who tended to have his head in the clouds at times. The old Quince always joked and laughed about things that weren't even funny but found a way to make the funny anyway. She missed the old Quince.

Azalea had thought about ditching the alliance, but what good would that do? She would miss being around Lignite, who, no matter how grumpy he was, was good company anyway. So she had chosen to stay put, and only ditch the alliance if it were absolutely necessary, urgent, or an emergency.

Azalea sat, leaning against the tree, exhausted and exasperated. The fireballs had given her an extreme workout, though they had stopped shortly on. Once again, she and Lignite could barely keep up with Quince. It was still early morning, meaning she could sleep again. But nowadays, Azalea was so hungry that she felt like she could die of hunger. She was pretty thirsty, too, and could go for a large bottle of cold, fresh water. She was afraid that if she closed her eyes, she would never be able to open them again. That was how hungry she was.

Lignite and Quince were zonked out on the hard dirt ground, snoring softly as they slept on. Azalea smiled wistfully. She admired how they could fall asleep so quickly. As for her, she usually tossed and turned quite a bit before finding a comfortable position, and she never really had a good night sleep. She would pay anything to feel what a good night sleep felt like.

Before she could help herself, her eyelids were closing over her warm, dark brown eyes. Maybe she could allow herself a little sleep. A little sleep would probably be enough to get her through the day.

Azalea shut her eyes and fell asleep to the sounds of her ally's snoring, and the distant sounds of nature. Surprisingly, when she woke up much later in the day she realized that, that nap was the best sleep she'd ever had.

* * *

 **Delia Montgomery**

 _ **District Twelve Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **But even if the stars and moon collide,**_

 _ **I never want you back into my life,**_

 _ **You can take your words and all your lies,**_

 _ **Oh oh oh I really don't care."**_

* * *

Delia felt the need to hold a grudge, but didn't know who exactly to hold it against.

Her parents? Probably not. They didn't do much to cause the situation she was in now. Her mentor? Well, Prim couldn't prevent the Games so that was out. Effie Trinket? Maybe. Effie _had_ chosen her slip with her name written on it in careful print at the Reapings, so it could possibly be Effie she wanted to hold the grudge against.

Speaking of the Reapings, it felt like a million years ago. Delia felt like she had witnessed so much more to Panem that she didn't view before, once she had saw the Capitol. She couldn't believe that the one trick of fate made Effie pull her name at the Reapings instead of, say, someone else who stood much more of a chance.

Now Delia was bloody, beaten, and tired of the arena. She felt anger and resentment towards the Capitol; feelings she had never felt towards them before. Maybe it was just the arena that proved it and did the trick, or maybe it was the fact that she missed her family. But, Delia was tired of the arena. She was _sick_ of it. Being in the Capitol was definitely not what she, nor her parents, had anticipated. Delia had learned that it was a cruel world that everyone lived in, and Panem especially was the cruelest nation of them all.

She lived in a world were twelve year olds to eighteen year olds fought to the death - for entertainment. How sick would President Snow get?

Delia was _done_ with the madness. To the Gamemakers, everything was just mutt after mutt after mutt after mutt. And to President Snow, everything - and everyone - was a pawn that he could control. The whole chessboard was Panem.

She walked through the trees of the dark forest, trying to settle her thoughts. Delia had always thought better when she was pacing, or walking. She thought about how unfair Panem was, how cruel the Capitol was, and how she'd seen the Capitol in a light. Before she thought they were merely innocent people. But now she knew the truth, and it haunted her.

How did she come to this so late? How did she slip and fall? Now that she was in the arena, she could throw half a lifetime away without any thought at all. She had to enjoy - and precisely calculate - every move she made from today and on. Delia would try to become Victor, all in one piece, and if she did manage to get out, she would restore happiness and forgiveness to the country of Panem.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Vulcan Hardy: "** _ **Confident"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

 **Azalea Sequins: "** _ **Happy"**_ **(sung by** _ **Pharrell Williams)**_

 **Delia Montgomery: "** _ **Really Don't Care"**_ **(sung by** _ **Katy Perry)**_

* * *

 **Hi! I'm back. A quick chapter for you all! What did you think? No deaths this chapter, but I'm planning some for future chapters, so be on the lookout.**

 **For those of you who know the broadway play** _ **Aida**_ **, I put some song references in that last paragraph of Delia's section. That song had been really stuck in my head.**

 **Just a quick question: In your review, can you answer if you read Percy Jackson or not? If you haven't, I seriously recommend it. If you've read Harry Potter, Magnus Chase, or Maze Runner as well as the Hunger Games, I think you'd like it.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

 **Casey Taurus**

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	34. Chapter 34 - Day Three Part Two

**Chapter 34 - Posted on ( 5/21/16)**

* * *

 **Ebony Williams**

 _ **District Four Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm,**_

 _ **And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold,**_

 _ **My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones,**_

 _ **It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me."**_

* * *

Ebony snapped awake. She didn't feel so good. She felt groggy. Then, suddenly, it all came flying back to her. _The fireballs. Running for my life. And then...all black._

She couldn't possibly be dead. She was here now. The last thing she remembered happening was her head being roughly banged against the dirt ground, and then she was out. Just like a light.

She looked around, trying to gauge where she was in the arena, exactly. The first immediate problem was that none of her allies were with her. She that must've meant that Ebony was captured separately from her alliance. Now she had to go solo.

Another horrible thought occurred to her. _What if Clarence thinks I betrayed the Careers by sneaking off amidst the pandemonium? What if I'm not...welcome in the Career Pack anymore?_ She could just imagine Marina watching this on their home television set right now. Her older sister was probably snickered, _what kind of a Career is she?_

Ebony looked down to see if her body was okay. But she let out an anguished cry once she realized, she was tied up in ropes! Her ankles and wrists were bound. She had no hope getting anywhere. As a bonus, she had a minor arm wound, which was still seeping blood. Ebony hoped she wasn't infected.

Just then, a walking soft sound of _pitter-patter_ on the dirt ground near her made her cry out, "Who's there? Untie these ropes and fight me!" She tried to twist her body so she could see her captor. It worked to no avail - she was stuck in this position until she could be rescued.

A soft, male voice answered. "No one's going to fight anyone right now. And no, you're not getting untied." It was disturbing, since she couldn't see him. He was probably somewhere behind her. Great, she couldn't turn around and see who it was. Now she might not ever know her killer.

Ebony thought of who was left in the arena and tried to match voices to faces. Her captor's voice was unfamiliar, though she could narrow things down to an extent. It wasn't any of her allies, the Careers. She tried to think of who was left, besides them. It couldn't be Lignite or Quince, since they both had distinct voices. But they were the only males left in the arena besides the Careers...right? Or was there someone she was missing?

She decided, "Okay, I know you're probably not the Careers, because it doesn't make any sense as to why they would capture their own ally. You're not Quince or Lignite, because I heard them talk before. But aren't those the only males left in the arena? Who _are_ you?"

She waited for a response. The guy just chuckled. "So you haven't noticed me all this time?"

"Of _course_ not." Ebony sneered. "Do I have time to be looking at outer District tributes? On another topic, how old are you? If you were 14 or younger I would die by the humiliation that the great Ebony Williams was slaughtered by a young kid."

"I'm 15."

Ebony groaned. It was still a young age - two years younger than her.

The voice continued on, though it was shaking a little this time. "Don't move, or I'll h-have to kill you."

"Kill me? I think not."

Ebony looked at the ground next to her. Unfortunately, her flail was nowhere in sight. Neither was her backpack. Her captor probably - _sigh -_ took it. "Well, as least just show me your face. I don't want to die not knowing who killed me."

The voice seemed almost hesitant. "Fine." He said, at last. The guy walked over in front of her, so she could get a view of him. He lowered his black hood of his arena jacket, so she could see his face.

He had calculating, blue-green eyes, which she noticed first. His orbs started back at her own, holding her gaze. His hair was dark brown and on the short side. He had fair skin with a slight tan, the color of beach sand. And yet, she _still_ didn't recognize him.

"Who _are_ you? Are you even a tribute?"

He pulled his hood back over his head, obscuring her view of his facial features once more. "I'm the District Five Male." He said in a clipped tone.

Ebony thought back to all the details she knew about the District Five Male. Okay, he just didn't stand out that much. She never encountered him before, so she didn't know anything about him. Nope, nothing, nada, zilch. "I still don't know who you are."

"I'm Roy Lentz."

* * *

 **Primrose Everdeen**

 _ **District Twelve Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You've got the words to change a nation,**_

 _ **But you're biting your tongue,**_

 _ **You've spent a lifetime stuck in silence,**_

 _ **Afraid you'll say something wrong."**_

* * *

Prim had a stack of diagram papers in her hand as she announced, "This meeting shall now come to order."

No, she still hadn't left Lynx's hospital room. Not even to change, take a shower, or anything. Prim needed to be with Lynx to ensure she was okay. Lynx still showed no signs of waking up, though her heartbeat was getting steadier by each passing day.

Prim was sure she looked really dreadful at the moment; her hair mildly tangled and with a case of bedhead, bags under her eyes that indicated clearly her loss of sleep. Still, she looked totally in control and confident as she called the meeting to order.

"I know you all have places to be, so let's make this brief." She continued. "It has come to my notice a few days ago that we, the Capitol and Districts, are both fighting a common enemy: the Eagle."

The mentors shifted uncomfortably. "We still don't know that means." Cashmere pointed out, flipping her gorgeous blonde hair that she somehow managed to always keep glamourous over her shoulder.

Finnick spoke up. "I have discovered the meaning." He said smoothly. "Old America's symbol is the Eagle. Therefore, that's where Eagle comes from."

Johanna put two and two together. "So it's a group who wants to bring back Old America." She said in a flat tone, finally understanding what the group stood for.

Everyone starting muttering and murmuring about how it was impossible. However, Prim was talking again. "Precisely. As for the common enemy, the Capitol doesn't want to lose control of what they already have. If Eagle takes over, President Snow will be forced to step down and he doesn't want to step down.

"As for the Districts, it would be chaos if the Eagle takes over. Imagine a rebellion larger than the Dark Days. We can't lose sight of who the enemy _really_ is."

Blight asked, "Does President Snow know about this?"

Prim shrugged, indicating _no idea._ "Not sure. I don't think we should tell him - I don't think we should trust him." She took a deep breath. "But we have a bigger problem to address. I think this is connected with Haymitch's disappearance somehow."

More muttering and murmuring issued throughout the small hotel room. No one knew anything about Haymitch's disappearance - one day he was perfectly fine, and then he was gone the next. But the idea of Haymitch being held _hostage_ somewhere, was worse.

Brutus said, over the side conversations, "I don't think the Capitol is working with them, but what if it's connected to the ventilation access in his office? They want us _both_ of out his office _and_ the chem lab."

"It could happen. We don't know yet."

"So there's only one thing left to do."

A strong, confident voice that belonged to Enobaria rose over the chattering of the other mentors. Everyone immediately silenced. Enobaria never really participated in the group discussions, so when she had to say something, it must be important.

She smiled her signature, fanged smile, flashing her sharp teeth. "We break into both places, and see what they're up to."

* * *

 **Bay Riverside**

 _ **District Four Male. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Today I don't feel like doing anything,  
I just wanna lay in my bed,**_

 _ **Don't feel like picking up my phone,**_

 _ **So leave a message at the tone."**_

* * *

Bay felt like a part of the whole Career puzzle piece was missing. Ebony was still gone, and had no signs of coming back. They all knew she wasn't dead, since a cannon didn't boom or ring. Thoughts much worse about his District Partner consumed him. _What if she's out there, somewhere, bleeding to death?_

Clarence was, just now trying to formulate a search party for their ally. Ebony was a worthy ally, since she _had_ gotten a kill at the Bloodbath. Vulcan, though, seemed to think otherwise.

"What if she betrayed us or something?" He had demanded. Clarence had just brushed it off, unrattled. It took a lot to faze Clarence Reiss. His simple response was: "She would never do that."

On another note, Hestia and Jayda were holding up just fine. Jayda's formerly large burn had minimized into a small one. Hestia's raw leg was healing quickly. Capitol medicine worked miracles.

Suddenly, a soft _ping_ like one he had heard earlier that day reached his eardrum. It was music to his ears. That meant no less or more than a sponsor, of course.

Bay reached up and plucked the canister from the sky, in a similar manner like he did when grabbing the burn remedy canisters. On the side of the metal jar, was labeled _D4M_ in careful writing, signalling it was his. His allies were watching his every move.

"Well? What is it?" Jayda demanded. She impatiently waited to see what Bay would obtain from the sponsor gift this time. Last time, it was the medicine. This time, they didn't particularly need anything. She was excited to see if it was a weapon they could use.

Bay popped open the lid of the container and peered inside. He was pleasantly surprised when he took note of what was inside. He pulled out his new item. "A chicken drumstick." He smiled, already taking a bite out of his food. It tasted heavenly, as it was coming from the Capitol after all. He looked inside the canister to see if there was anything else there, and frowned.

"Well?" Jayda asked once more.

He pulled out a slip of paper, and read it to himself. _Bay, I'm warning you: don't trust Clarence. Whatever you do, just don't trust him. Don't say I didn't warn you._ It wasn't signed. Before one of his allies could take a peek at the paper (he _especially_ didn't want to Clarence to see), he crumpled it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his arena jacket.

"It was nothing important." Bay lied to them, not making eye contact with Clarence. He didn't want them to know the information he had just learned from the anonymous author of his note.

They seemed satisfied with his answer, and turned away. The note, however, took up the most space in his brain. _Why can't I trust Clarence? If anyone cares about the Careers more than I do, it's him. When will I see what I'm missing? Will I see it when it's too late?_

* * *

 **Casey Taurus**

 _ **District Ten Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **This tug of war can't go on anymore,**_

 _ **Nobody wins from this misery,  
Free, well oh can't you see,  
I wanna be, I want you to be, free."**_

* * *

All hope was lost.

Kinsie, Dylan, and Casimir were gone. Her world turned to black and white. No one could be more stressed out than Casey was feeling right now; she was pressured to win so she could help Prim with the puzzles they had to solve. Casey also wondered how her mentor, Lynx, was doing. Hopefully she was okay.

Rosie was no help anymore. She had witnessed Kinsie die, and as she had recounted the details of what had happened, she had told Lynx that she literally couldn't do anything about it. The illusion mutt was programmed to keep the fight strictly between itself and Kinsie. Kinsie had died, because of it.

Rosie just kept unclenching and clenching her fists, and shifting her weight from foot to foot, as if she expected something to happen at any second. Casey could agree. Their alliance was definitely sensitive-prone, like all the bad things happened to them only. It wasn't fair - no, the whole _idea_ of the Games wasn't fair. Nothing in Panem was _fair._ She had to get used to that.

The Capitol anthem had just rang through the arena, but there were no faces in the sky to project. No one had died on this day. Casey knew that something was bound to happen soon. The Capitol was probably craving blood right now.

Casey felt like crying; pouring out her anger of how sick of the arena she was through sadness. However, she couldn't afford to look weak, and especially not on national television. She had to be strong.

A small hiss coming in the direction behind her made Casey roll her eyes. _Another mutt, probably. Can't a girl catch a break?_ She broke into a run, not even looking back to see what it was. Rosie followed, stumbling along in suite.

However, when the repetitive hissing continued, she was forced to look over her shoulder to see what it was. The first thing she saw was the group of snakes. They looked deadly and dangerous, chasing them at what seemed like the speed of light. The second thing she noticed was their sharp fangs, dripping with some acidic liquid. So they were probably poisonous.

Great. Acidic, poisonous snakes who can slither at a really fast pace. Just was she needed.

"They're snakes!" Casey called over to Rosie. "Come on!"

Casey managed to pour on the speed even more, and Rosie quickly got the gist. She ran faster. Both girls poured their focus, strength, energy, and all they got into their running. Casey's breathing got shallower due to lack of stamina. The snakes still pressed on, with no problem. _Annoying snakes._ As said before, everything bad managed to happen to their alliance.

Soon, Casey had to fall back. She simply had nothing left in her, and she was hollow. Rosie threw an anxious look back at her over her shoulder, but Casey called, "I'm fine! Keep going!"

The snakes were now only fifty feet away. Now forty…

Casey tried to forget about her pain and tried to concentrate on what mattered most: getting out of there. She broke into another jog, but simply couldn't gain the momentum to run as fast as she did before. There was a cramp in her side, preventing her from running any faster. That didn't make the situation at hand much better at all!

The mutts were coming closer, bridging the gap from forty feet away to thirty feet. Soon, the leader snake was upon her. It circled her, and the other snakes hissed, anxious to attack. The snake bit down on Casey's arm, drawing blood.

Casey thought she knew pain; physically and emotionally. But nothing could stop her arm from feeling like it exploded after the snake's fangs sunk into her flesh. Blood, as well as another substance she didn't recognize, began to spill out of the wound at the speed of light. Soon, she realized the other substance along with the blood, was some of the snake's poison. Casey cried out, wanting the pain to end.

Someone shouting her name brought her back to reality. Rosie had came back for her. She whizzed towards Casey at top speed, faster than even the snakes could travel. She immediately scared off the snakes by the outraged and furious look on her face, which wasn't done purposely. She was simply frightened for her friend's life. Rosie turned to Casey.

"They're gone." Rosie said in a shaky voice. "I just couldn't let them kill you."

Casey responded, "Thank you." She decided not to mention how the snake was poisonous, and how her life was not at risk due to the poison probably being now spread all over her body. It would just worry Rosie more, and Rosie had enough to worry about.

Rosie started to smile, but it quickly vanished when she noticed Casey's severe wound. "Oh my gosh." Was all she could say. It looked painful and horrible, not at all what a regular human arm looked like.

Casey took another nervous peek at it. It still had blood pumping out of it faster than ever. _That's_ so _not good._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Ebony Williams: "** _ **Yellow Flicker Beat"**_ **(sung by** _ **Lorde)**_

 **Primrose Everdeen: "** _ **Read All About It, Part lll"**_ **(sung by** _ **Emeli Sande)**_

 **Bay Riverside: "** _ **The Lazy Song"**_ **(sung by** _ **Bruno Mars)**_

 **Casey Taurus: "** _ **Free"**_ **(sung by** _ **Haley Reinhart)**_

* * *

 **No deaths this chapter.**

 **Hello! Another quick chapter. What did you think? What do you predict will happen now that the mentors are planning to investigate the chemistry lab and President Snow's office?**

 **If I did another SYOT after this story, would you submit to it?**

 **Anyway, we're getting closer and closer to the finale. Hopefully you enjoy the ride!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

 **Casey Taurus**

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	35. Chapter 35 - Day Four Part One

**Chapter 35 - Posted on ( 5/23/16)**

* * *

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

 _ **District Nine Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm just a believer that things will get better,**_

 _ **Some can take it,**_

 _ **Or leave it,**_

 _ **But I don't wanna let it go."**_

* * *

Rosie wasn't a mind reader; not even close. But she _did_ know there was Casey was taking a turn for the worse.

Within the seemingly short hours that passed by through the sleepless night, Casey was looking worse than before, if even possible. She was permanently pale, as if she just saw a ghost. Casey was also looking abnormally unhealthy and ill.

Rosie could also tell that there was something her kind ally was hiding. Something important, judging from the guilty look that was always on Casey's face. But Rosie brushed it off. If Casey was comfortable with telling her, she would probably tell her later. She just needed a little time.

A _ding_ \- so quiet she was sure she might've imagined it - was heard by both girls. They looked up, and Rosie noted that there was a silver-colored metal canister with a parachute attached to it lazily floating down from the sky.

"Sponsor." Casey intoned, in a depressed pitch of voice. She now seemed more tired, more sunken, and more sad; she always spent her time moping around. Casey simply wasn't who she used to be.

Maybe the arena did that to people.

Rosie decided that it was better not to respond verbally, but by reaching up and grabbing it. Once she brought it closer to her face, she realized that it said _D9F_ on the side. "It's meant for me." She extracted the lid off the canister and dared to peek inside.

Resting inside of the sponsor gift's original packing was something wrapped in plastic. Curious, Rosie took it out and wrestled the plastic covering. She soon perceived that there was cow beef in there. Rosie smiled broadly and held it up. "Look, Casey. Food!"

"It's about time." Came the reply. "The last time we ate was the night before Kinsie died. The dried fruit from her backpack."

Hearing Kinsie's name immediately put a damper on the situation. Rosie's smile slowly crumbled and her face was just left with a mix of a sad and angry expression. Sad because Kinsie and the old Casey was gone. Angry at the Capitol for causing all of this. Her angriness was also slightly directed at Casey since, if it was the old Casey, she wouldn't be acting like a killjoy. _What is going on with her? It's like the snake had some venom to control her mind._ After Rosie had let that thought travel deeper into her brain, and did a double-take at it. _Venom...poison!_

She abandoned the sponsor gift completely to ponder on the problem harder. She knew a lot about poison, from the herbal school back in District Nine and from the poison station in the Training Center. There were some poisons that killed you slowly, and some that killed you fast. Casey couldn't clearly be categorized into the former, nor latter, because she was getting more increasingly weak by each passing minute but she had lasted several hours.

Rosie thought back to what the trainer said in the Training Center. " _Even in the Capitol, there's no cure for poison. It's simply undefeatable. It's a cause for certain death."_ That meant Casey had little, or no time.

She felt sad. First was Casimir, next was Dylan, then came Kinsie. Now Casey? Rosie would soon be left all alone, if the poison did its work correctly.

While she was thinking, she was also subconsciously going through the sponsor gift. Rosie realized that there was some more food in there, two bottles of water, and a note. Though the other items were equally important, Rosie pulled out the note to read first.

 _Casey doesn't have much time. Interrogate her, learn more about her. Try to find out what she's feeling._ It was from her mentor. Rosie sighed, but mentally agreed to the hard task of making Casey open up.

She cleared her throat, and turned to her ally. "So...how are you doing?" Rosie mentally face-palmed at her sad attempt of trying to break the ice. She felt like she was talking to a stranger she never met before.

Casey replied in a clipped, short tone, "I'm good." She was clearly not.

Rosie sighed again, but this time heavily and angrily. "I'm tired of you not talking properly! I can't take it anymore. Is there something you have to tell me? Because I know you're poisoned-" Rosie clapped her hands over her mouth in shock and shame. She had blown it. She had yelled at her ally when what she needed right now was someone to lean on, and a friend. What if Casey _wasn't_ poisoned? Rosie only had one thought. _I'm totally dead._

But Casey didn't get angry. She had a faraway, occupied look on her face. "I'd been meaning to tell you that. I just didn't know how to." A tear escaped. "I don't have a lot of time."

Rosie looked down at the sponsor gifts. She had assumed that everything was for her. But now, she knew better. She held out some fruits and a water bottle for Casey. "Here. You need this more than I do."  
Casey looked surprised at Rosie's peace offering, but took the items nevertheless. "I thought you'd be mad at me."

Rosie shook her head. "Nope." Then she proceeded to rip a bit of cow beef for Casey. "Do you want this?"

"Nah, I'm good." Casey pulled a disgusted face. "I don't want to eat something that came from a _cow._ No offense."

Rosie shrugged, popping it into her own mouth. They ate in comfortable silence. After a while, she vocalized, "I'm glad the old Casey is back."

"Me too, Rosie. Me too."

* * *

 **Isobel Wild**

 _ **District Eleven Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **And now, I don't wanna take you if we fall down, don't get upset,**_

 _ **And now, is just the beginning,**_

 _ **And we'll figure it out somehow,**_

 _ **Right now, masquerade."**_

* * *

Isobel was starving, thirsty, and ready to call it quits. She wanted to follow in her grandmother's footsteps, but she didn't exactly know how to. Especially not since she just learned she couldn't trust anyone in the arena.

Finally, she made a decision. She would try to find the Cornucopia, raid the Careers' supplies, and make it out of there alive. _Easier said than done_.

That was hours ago. Now, she was just stumbling around in the dark arena, with no clue where she was going whatsoever. She wished the arena just had some sunlight, instead of the small purple light from the purple lanterns hanging on tree branches and some moonlight. She felt like she was going in circles. _Didn't I just see that bush a few minutes ago?_

She didn't know how her grandmother did it. The arena itself was enough to drive someone mad. But add tributes, mutts, and Gamemaker traps to it. Utter havoc!

Isobel desperately wished for a map or something. No such luck - things in the arena didn't come easily. You had to _earn_ the privileges.

Suddenly, she thought she spotted something silver, and huge in the distance. Isobel drew closer to inspect it thoroughly. Could it be...the Cornucopia! After hours of hard searching, she had eventually found her prize. Isobel's concentration, focus, and dedication paid off.

She wove through the trees to take a shortcut. She didn't want to waste any time getting in. Isobel didn't know if any Careers were around, but she didn't want to stick around to find out.

Her throat tightened as she neared the place the Bloodbath had occurred. She hadn't been back here since she had fled after she accidentally killed Louis. Isobel rubbed her already moist eyes. She didn't want to cry.

The first thing that caught Isobel's eye was the pile of backpacks near the mouth of the Cornucopia. She veered towards it quickly, knowing that it would hold the uttermost important survival essentials of the Games. Grabbing a pack, she hoisted it onto her back, knowing she would go through it later. Isobel took a second one, but that was all she would take. If the Careers came back after she was long gone, she didn't want any of them suspecting that someone had took something. Isobel had to take enough to survive, but not enough that they would notice it was missing. Hopefully the Careers were thick-headed enough that they would not see how the pile was considerably smaller than it was before.

A sort of gleaming in the corner of Isobel's vision caught her attention. The Wild girl turned to the source of the shimmering. There was another pile behind her, this time full of shining, silver weapons.

She rubbed her hands in anticipation. She hadn't got her hands on a weapon since the Bloodbath, so now it was her chance. Isobel decided that she would start at the top of the weapon pyramid and work her way down. She approached the accumulation and shifted through the sharp, pain-inflicting objects with nimble fingers.

Isobel sifted aside a javelin an pushed away a set of double daggers, searching high and low for the perfect weapon that would determine her fate. Of course, that very weapon would be: throwing knives, her dominant weapon choice.

As the pile dwindled down to just a few more items without any trace of throwing knives, Isobel began to worry. What if there were no throwing knives after all? Would she have to use another sort of way to get by?

Fortunately for her, she didn't have to worry. Awaiting her, she found a throwing knife vest just seconds later. On the outside, it looked like an ordinary black, leather, sleeveless vest. On the inside, had over twenty knives stored in secret compartments. Checking the compartments, Isobel noted that there were all sorts of throwing knives she could use. There were curved ones, extra sharp ones, small ones that would fit in the palm of her hand, and some that was the length of her wrist to her elbow.

In other words, the vest was Isobel's dream come true.

Before Isobel could do anything, she had to put the assortment of weapons the way how she found it. She was very observant, so she was careful to put everything back so it looked exactly like it did before. _The quiver of arrows went over here, the whip went next to it…_

Soon, everything looked untouched and as if no one was ever there, which was what Isobel was hoping for. She smiled to herself. _Mission accomplished._ The Careers would never notice two backpacks and a vest of throwing knives missing from their collection.

She walked away, and back into the woods, knowing that she would probably never see this place again. Isobel turned and looked back just as she reached the edge of the forest. Blood was still on the grass, as if painted there permanently. It was a mocking reminder of the six lives lost at the Bloodbath.

Isobel turned to face the forest again and left the Cornucopia for good. Still, she felt as if ghosts of the Bloodbath deaths were whispering behind her…

* * *

 **Roy Lentz**

 _ **District Five Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a survivor (what?)  
I'm not gon' give up (what?)  
I'm not gon' stop (what?)  
I'm gon' work harder (what?)"**_

* * *

Roy was facing a major dilemma.

He, a few seconds ago, was just sponsored by his mentor. Inside of the sponsor gift was beef and bacon, a good combination of protein that would ensure he wouldn't die of hunger the next few days in the arena. However, he knew Ebony might as well be left for dead if she didn't eat soon. Roy didn't feel the need to share _his_ sponsor food - the one _he_ was sponsored - but what was the point of capturing a Career if she died of hunger anyway?

Speaking of Ebony's potential death, which he wasn't sure was soon to come, he was just prolonging it because he didn't want to face the guilt of killing another tribute. Clearly, he hadn't thought this through as well as he could have. The whole enchilada wasn't going as well as he hoped, either. Ebony was just demanding to be released. Roy felt convictable. Why couldn't he just stop her suffering and end her life?

Whatever - he just couldn't kill her, at least not right now. Sighing, he removed the beef and bacon from its packaging, and ripped a bit off each respective meal to give to Ebony.

As soon as he was in her line of sight, Ebony sighed heavily, as if she was tired of him. But as soon as she saw the food in his hand, her face brightened. "Is that for me?"

Roy nodded, though quite reluctantly. He hadn't thought this through, either; Ebony was obviously bound in ropes, so she couldn't feed herself. Which left only one choice: he'd have to feed her.

Roy kneeled on his knees and hovered the food over her mouth. "I'm just going to give this to you, okay?"

Ebony snorted. "Why are you asking my permission? You're in charge, captain. I'm the one tied up here." That only made him more guilty that he was going to have to kill her soon.

Roy didn't respond, but chose to just feed her instead of talking. As he was slowly putting the food into Ebony's mouth, he felt a pang of sadness. Feeding her reminded him of feeding his grandmother and his mother. When the illness had swept through the District of Five, they had gotten to the point of being so ill that they couldn't feed themselves. Roy, Rahnya, and his father had to take turns feeding them. Thinking of this made his eyes sting with tears, so he turned away, not wanting Ebony to see him cry.

However, Ebony wasn't dumb. She noticed something was wrong.

She had taken the liberty of calling him _Roy the Crazy Boy_ , so she did now. "Roy the Crazy Boy, you really are crazy." She commented after swallowing the bacon he had just fed her. "You okay?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to respond verbally. If he did, then a torrent of tears might come out instead. Of course, he couldn't be weak. He grabbed another piece of bacon and yet again fed it to her.

Ebony's voice dropped to a soft whisper. "You thinking of your home?"

Startled by this reply, Roy nodded again. Suddenly, his whole backstory came flooding out of his mouth; his mother and grandmother getting sick, his mother dying, his grandmother being able to be saved, joining the illegal arms group. Roy no longer cared if any Peacekeeper back in District Five learned about the illegal arms group still going on. He just talked and rambled.

Ebony was a good listener. Her eyebrows knit together as she heard his story, and she tried to put the puzzle pieces together. She nodded to show she was listening and let out the occasional comment as Roy talked. When he was done, he didn't met her gaze. Ebony didn't know what to say, even did Roy _did_ do all the talking. Outer District tributes were a lot more different, and suffered more pain, than she had originally thought. "I'm so sorry." Came out of her mouth, with lack of better words to say.

He was done feeding her, so he stood up and was about to go. Ebony didn't know why, but she suddenly blurted, "Wait."

Roy turned back, looking at her with a confused glance on his facial features. However, despite his confused state, she continued. "I'm sorry for your mother's death, of course, but also for judging you before I really knew you. I never knew how fortunate I was before you just told me about what happened back at your home.

"Before, all I cared about was outshining my sister and my brother, and of course, being the District Four Female in one of the Hunger Games. My sister always being better than me was better than what happened to you. Thanks for showing me that."

Roy relaxed. "You're welcome." He said, so softly she knew he didn't say that often. He finally turned to go and stepped out of her sight.

They were two sides of the same coin. Roy had just learned that, maybe Careers weren't so bad.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields: "** _ **Believer"**_ **(sung by** _ **American Authors)**_

 **Isobel Wild: "** _ **Masquerade"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nicki Minaj)**_

 **Roy Lentz: "** _ **Survivor"**_ **(sung by** _ **Destiny's Child)**_

* * *

 **No deaths this chapter, either. I promise the action will pick up next chapter!**

 **So, how did you like this one? What do you think of Roy and Ebony's new bond? By the way, thanks for over 360 reviews! Each and every review means so much to me.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

 **Casey Taurus**

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	36. Chapter 36 - Day Four Part Two

**Chapter 36 - Posted on (5/26/16)**

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

Ebony was still missing in action.

No sign of her. They knew she wasn't dead - no cannon had rung, no face in the sky. But where would she be? It was like she just disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Like _magic._

Vulcan was being of no help to the Careers - as if he ever was, of course. He was continuing to be a problem. He insisted that Ebony betrayed the alliance by running off, which was an option, but it was still very unreasonable. As far as Clarence knew, it was every Volunteered Career's dream to be in the Games and to be in the legendary Career Pack. Clarence was trying to keep his cool around Vulcan, but it was hard, considering that Vulcan wouldn't let the subject go.

Jayda and Hestia were doing fine. Their burns had completely healed. However, it wasn't just them who suffered. It was the _whole_ Career Pack that suffered.

Even though all of the Careers this year generally made snarky comments and sarcastic remarks, Ebony by far made the most witty comments. Even though Clarence's allies' were loud, and in Vulcan's case, annoying, their noise level didn't reach how loud Ebony generally was by herself. It wasn't the same without her around - there was no denying it.

Speaking of District Four, Clarence thought that Bay was acting a bit strange lately. The 17 year old seemed preoccupied, and wouldn't meet his gaze. It could've been because Bay was worried about his District Partner's well being, but it most likely could've been by a secret he was keeping. Clarence was quite busy at the moment, so he would interrogate Bay later. However, he had more important things to focus on now.

Vulcan, annoying as always, made another move to move Clarence closer to the edge - the edge where Clarence would lose his cool. "There hasn't been any action lately. I bet the Capitol is bloodthirsty. They need something to entertain them." The District Two Male pointed out.

"What do you propose we do?" Clarence replied wearily. Just by Vulcan being in the alliance was wearing him out. He wanted desperately to kick Vulcan out of the Pack, but had to grudging accept the fact that they might need him in the future, as crazy as that sounded.

"Let's go tribute hunting. We're bound to bump into someone sooner or later." Vulcan responded. Turning to the rest of the alliance, he announced, "Okay, let's stick together for tribute hunting. First, we'll -" He was cut off when, in one clean, fresh move, Clarence slammed his against the nearest tree. _This. Is. It!_ Clarence thought, angrily. _Vulcan keeps trying to take over_ my _position as leader of the Career Pack, and he thinks he's the best. Well, this nonsense will stop - and right now!_

They both stared into each other's eyes, breathing heavily: Vulcan, out of shock and maybe even some fear; and Clarence, out of anger, frustration, and annoyance. The rest of the alliance were exchanging glances of apprehension and dismay, scared of the fate of the alliance. Would Clarence come after _them_ next?

Vulcan cowered under Clarence's hash gaze, but tried to hide it. "What do you want, Reiss?" He ordered an answer in a gruff manner of speech. However, as intimidating as Vulcan thought he was, Clarence was more.

"I want you to stop taking over _my_ position as Career Pack Leader. Fight enemies your own size." Clarence snarled, getting up close and personal in his rival's face. "Remember how in the Training Center, I told you that if you did any 'funny business', I'd personally kill you? You're lucky I'm not killing you right now."

Clarence proudly took note of the gulp he saw travel down Vulcan's throat - the gulp he knew he had caused. He had succeeded in making Vulcan uncomfortable and unwilling to argue anymore. Clarence's wit, intelligence, and intimidation done that to people.

Bay stepped up nervously. "Um, maybe you shouldn't fight. It's kind of over a worthless reason. Clarence, you can let go of Vulcan; I think he learned his lesson. Vulcan, you learned your mistake. We're all good now, okay? Just forget this ever happened."

Clarence fixed Bay with a death stare, but complied and let go of Vulcan. He switched his gaze and looked at Vulcan instead, in a mixture of irritation and exasperation. _Doesn't anyone understand my pain? First Vulcan, now Bay._

Clarence sighed but turned to face the Careers. "Okay, team. Let's scan the perimeter and check if we're safe here. After that, we'll call it a night of searching, but maybe we could go tribue hunting _later."_ Clarence made an emphasis on _later_ and looked pointedly at Vulcan.

The rest of the Pack chorused their agreement and scrambled to gather their weapons, which were scattered all over the floor; Jayda, her swords and bow; Hestia, her machete; Bay, his spear; and Vulcan, his tomahawk. Then they ran off to check the perimeter. Only Clarence remained.

He sat down in the grass. _You're a much better leader than Vulcan could ever be_. He told himself.

But why was Clarence uneasy? Why didn't he believe it?

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

Now Quince was on Azalea's nerves.

He wasn't talking at all. He wouldn't listen to a word she and Lignite said. _And_ , he was turning bitter and cruel to them.

She honestly thought he was a nice guy. He really, truly was. But he was crossing the line now. The Games had changed everything.

As of now, they were just walking and sauntering around the arena aimlessly, of course in silence. The trio didn't know exactly what they were trying to find, but they just kept at it.

Every breeze that proceeded to make the branches of trees sway made Azalea jump. The swaying branches somehow managed to look like hands reaching out to grab her. She just couldn't take her chances.

A loud voice abruptly interrupted the soothing forest noises of the crescendo of crickets and harmony of birds. The voice was screaming, "No, no, no! _Please_ not right now!"

Lignite and Azalea froze, but Quince kept walking. "Someone's nearby. We could get killed!" Azalea hissed, trying her best not to scream in rage and frustration at him.

As usual, and as she foresaw, he ignored her and kept on walking.

It was the final straw. Azalea snapped. She yelled, "You don't care about us! You're selfish and you only care about yourself! Well, next chance we get we'll leave you for the dead? Got it?"

Angry tears came to blur her vision. She was completely done with it and she didn't want to deal with him again. And, Azalea thought the arena was a fresh start. Where nobody knew her and she could have friends. But Quince had ruined that.

She was starting to sound like her old bratty self, when she used to tease the popular kids.

Frostily, he turned around. Azalea noted he had the meanest glare on his face. She shrank back out of nervousness and fear, backing up until she almost stepped on Lignite's foot. Quince's face was like an unmoving wall, and a mask of malice. He slowly opened his mouth and uttered the first words he would have uttered in a long time. "Well, are you coming or not?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned back around and continued on his way.

Azalea steadied herself and apologized to Lignite. She had no choice but to go with Quince anyway. He was a valuable ally and she didn't want to lose him over a little fight.

The two of them rushed over to catch up, but Quince stopped in his tracks abruptly, sending Lignite and Azalea crashing into them. They sent him looks of apology. Quince silenced them with a look.

Azalea realized why they stopped. The girl they had heard earlier was in view. She was holding up another girl, maybe a few years older than her. The older girl seemed abnormally weak. She was shivering though it was fairly warm in the arena. Her face had a purple tinge to it.

In other words, maybe she was ill or sick.

The girls hadn't noticed them lurking around yet. However, Quince was going to make sure that they would notice them very, very soon. Azalea could tell because he was drawing his dagger from its sheath. Azalea whispered to him, "They're too innocent! They didn't do anything to hurt us, so shouldn't kill them."

Quince looked back at her with the same frosty look. "If we kill them, less competition for us. Maybe we can even make it back home." He pushed a spare dagger he carried around into her hands. "Use the element of surprise."

Azalea looked up at him, dumbfounded. He wanted _her_ , the _shyest_ one in the group, to kill two people? Her mouth tried to form words but it seemed frozen. She was shocked into speechlessness.

She glanced behind her, and saw Lignite calmly drawing his pickaxe and readying it in his hand. He must have realized that there was no chance of winning an argument with Quince.

Quince began to give out instructions in a voice that was only loud enough for the alliance to hear. "We'll attack from behind. Lignite, you go after Rosie. Azalea and I will take care of Casey."

Azalea gulped. _Take care_ was just a code word for _kill._

Quince began to move forward, as stealthy as a cat. The two others followed in suite, careful not to snap a twig or cause any disruption at all. Rosie and Casey paid no mind to the situation at hand. Rosie was distracted trying to hold the other girl up. If Rosie wasn't holding her, Casey would've fallen down.

All too soon, Quince jumped forward and slashed his dagger through the air, screaming a battle cry. The knife ended up impaling itself in Casey's shoulder, and she screamed in pain as he yanked it out roughly.

Reluctantly, Azalea joined in Quince's battle as Lignite chased Rosie. Lignite swung his pickaxe mightily, managing to draw some blood from Rosie's back. The injury wasn't fatal, but it definitely was a dizzying sight.

Azalea stabbed and spun, she and her knife acting as one. Casey was quick, but of course wasn't at her regular state. She was tiring, and eventually getting slower and slower. Quince was having no breaks. With renewed energy, he penetrated Casey once again in the same spot. She stopped running and gave into the pain. Casey's knees grew weak and she stumbled to the ground.

Rosie looked at her, wide-eyed. "Casey!" She yelled, an intermingle of anger, frustration, worry, concern, and nervousness in her tone. Azalea could tell she really cared about her friend.

Casey waved her off, but weakly. "Go!"  
Rosie looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't have a chance once Lignite swung his pickaxe at her again. She ducked, rolled away, and sprang to her feet. Rosie sprinted far off into the woods, not looking back.

Meanwhile, Azalea, Lignite, and Quince surrounded Casey and circled her. Casey looked trapped; she had nowhere to go. Her end was near, and was only moments away.

Quince stepped forward, and the expression on his face honestly scared Azalea. Before Casey could speak, he held up a hand to silence her. "It's the Games." He said, as if that explained everything. "Death and tributes are both involved. You're in the way of my victory. You have to simply be removed."

Subconsciously, Azalea frowned at his words. It was a subtle movement, but Quince seemed to have noticed it. He glared at her, and the way he was glaring told her _do-as-I- say-or-I'm-going-to-kill-you-myself._ She looked away.

Meanwhile, he continued. "I'll do it fast." He gripped his knife tightly and looked at it. He seemed to want to get it over with, before he could change his mind and chicken out of it. Almost in slow motion, Quince took the essential swing to end Casey's life.

Azalea watched, terrified, as the dagger entered Casey's chest. It was like the Bloodbath, but much, much worse. She was seeing death up close, with her own eyes. _She had witnessed a tribute's death._

Casey wasn't completely gone yet. As life poured out of her, namely blood and something that looked strangely like poison, Casey reached up and gripped Azalea's arm tightly. She muttered, almost urgently, "Eagle...eagle…"

Then she fell back, her body going limp. She was dead.

Casey Taurus was gone.

Forever.

* * *

 **Lignite Parker**

 _ **District Twelve Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We all are living in a dream,  
But life ain't what it seems,**_

 _ **Oh everything's a mess,**_

 _ **And all these sorrows I have seen."**_

* * *

Casey's cannon rung loudly in the distance - in one big _boom_ \- but Lignite didn't even register the noise. He was staring at the dead girl's body. All that blood was sickening. It was starting to drip off her, and was beginning to stain the grass around them.

The blood of Casey.

But the thing that Lignite couldn't get over, besides the fact that their very own Quince Lazarre had killed another person in cold blood, was that he had almost become a murderer, too.

He had almost killed Rosie.

Rosie was so close to dying by his hands. If her head was just an inch higher when she ducked, then it would have been sliced by his pickaxe. He had almost killed her, and he was glad he didn't.

He couldn't have lived with it. Lives were so hard to live, but easy to throw away. Same went for friends. Friends were the same way, and Quince had definitely proved that by his unusually regal behavior, his bitter glares, and his silent anger.

Lignite turned away from the horrible sight of Casey's mangled body, which was oozing blood and other substances at an alarming rate. He feigned interest in the trees around them, even looking up at the night sky. But nothing he did could erase the never-fading memory of Casey's death.

Azalea, next to him, couldn't tear her brown eyes away from the sight. She looked traumatized beyond existence, like she was going to throw up or get sick. That wasn't a good sign. Quince, however, was the opposite. He had the wildest look on his face, like he was proud of himself for getting a kill. _Proud_ of himself. What had gotten into the Quince they had once known and enjoyed company with? The Quince that started the very alliance in the first place?  
With nothing better to do, Lignite stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. It was a simple, everyday movement that he often performed, but this time his eyes widened as he did so. It wasn't because he was in pain, or he saw any immediate danger. But no, it was because of what was _inside_ his pockets.

He fingered what the objects were. They were round, circular, and almost like berries. But they weren't just any ordinary berries that someone could eat on a regular basis. They were nightlock berries. Lignite remembered how he had gotten them.

During their first night in the arena, he, Azalea, and Quince were wandering around, more lost than they could ever feel. Finally, they had settled into a spot with plenty of plants beyond any biologists' wildest dreams. Lignite remembered Azalea pointing out a shrub almost overflowing with black-colored berries, and she picked one, rolling it in between her forefinger and thumb. Azalea was about to pop it into her mouth when Lignite abruptly stopped her. He explained about nightlock berries, and how they could kill you if they even went past your lips. The person who ate it would be dead within a minute. _No wonder they put this in the arena,_ Azalea had said. Just in case, Lignite had stuffed his pockets with the offending, poisonous berries. Just for emergencies.

Lignite wasn't sure if killing a dangerous threat such as Quince qualified as an emergency. But, in a way, he was correct. Quince had gotten out of hand, as well as out of control. Being slightly ignorant and bitter? Lignite could handle that. But something as serious as killing another person, with no remorse? Yep, Quince had lost it.

More important, what if Quince decides that Lignite and Azalea aren't worth the trouble, and kills his own allies?

 _Nope, impossible._ Lignite chided. _I don't know anyone who would kill their own ally._

Ally or not, who could you really trust in the arena?

Lignite had been subconsciously fingering the berries, but now he slipped it back into his pocket. He would give Quince one more chance, but if that chance was blown, then he would respond with a full-out attack. Lignite knew that this was risky, keeping Quince alive, but he had no choice.

He just needed time for himself to think.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Clarence Reiss:** " _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by** _ **Taylor Swift)**_

 **Azalea Sequins: "** _ **Happy**_ " **(sung by** _ **Pharrell Williams)**_

 **Lignite Parker: "** _ **Dream"**_ **(sung by** _**Imagine Dragons)**_

* * *

 _ **15th: Casey Taurus - D10F - Words cannot express how amazing and awesome Casey was. She was one of the best tributes I have received, and she was just a great person. She didn't believe in trapped animals, and hey, she managed to free some of them. In her lifetime, Casey had done great deeds for humans and animals alike, and they owe her so much. Even if her parents don't care for her, we will miss Casey Taurus.**_

* * *

 **So this was one of the sadder chapters of "A Spell Broken". What did you think? Now that Rosie is officially the only one left in her alliance, how do you feel for her?**

 **I don't have much to say, but I would like to say, thanks so, so much for all the support and love you guys are giving me through the reviews. It's so amazing how I have gotten 372 reviews on my first fanfiction! It's mind blowing!**

 **I'm going to start working on the next chapter now, so 'bye!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

Casey Taurus

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

 **Isobel Wild**

 **Delia Montgomery**


	37. Chapter 37 - Day Five Part One

**Chapter 37 - Posted on ( 5/30/16)**

* * *

 **Delia Montgomery**

 _ **District Twelve Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **But even if the stars and moon collide,**_

 _ **I never want you back into my life,**_

 _ **You can take your words and all your lies,**_

 _ **Oh oh oh I really don't care."**_

* * *

Delia could literally only see in black-and-white. Her life was slowly coming to an abrupt end.

She was beginning to hate the Capitol more and more with each past day. There was no action happening for Delia. Ever since she had arrived in the arena five days ago, nothing excited had happened. No tributes around, no mutts, no Gamemaker traps. It was like she was on her own little isolated island. That also meant, no sponsors.

Once again, didn't her looks count for anything? She thought she had made an impression on the Capitol with her interview and all that. Didn't they want a good-looking Victor?

Delia was _hungry._ She was _famished._ She was _thirsty._ Delia could feel herself running out of time. The Hunger Games sure gambled with lives. She had survived without food, or water, for five days and she didn't think she could hold on for much longer.

 _At least Lignite is still alive._ Delia told herself. She thought she had hated Lignite. But all of that had changed, even if he wasn't there. Delia wanted him to win if she couldn't. _Win for District Twelve._

Her knees buckled and crumpled. She was too weak; she couldn't hold on any longer. She simply had to give into the pain. Delia felt like she couldn't move a muscle as pain flared up her left arm for falling on it. She let out a small moan, with no energy to scream. She found herself just watching the events unfold, like she couldn't do anything about it.

From her position on the floor she could see her light brown hair, which had swept over her shoulders. Her first thought was: _Oh my gosh. Is that what my hair really looks like? It's so stringy!_ Drinking water kept all of your body hydrated, including your hair. But since she had no access to water in the past few days, she couldn't drink. Her hair looked worse than ever. _Back in District Twelve, I would_ die _from embarrassment if I looked like this._

But that wasn't her main concern. She could feel her life, her whole being, slipping away from her slowly it the midst of her emotional and physical pain. Delia was done for - no food and water for five days surely did not improve her weakened state.

She closed her eyes for the last time and began to see the bright light of the stars gleaming in her vision. Death had awaited her with open arms, and Delia had finally accepted that this was her fate; to die on the fifth day of the 76th Annual Hunger Games. She couldn't make it any further.

Delia hoped she had made an impression on the Capitol to learn their lesson. But from the fact that she was slowly dying from starvation, she would have to intitle someone else to do her deeds.

Using all of her last bits of energy to let out one anguished cry, Delia Montgomery leaned her head back, and slipped into a after lifetime of eternal darkness.

 _Boom_.

* * *

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh**

 _ **District Three Female. 14 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I just wanna make you proud,**_

 _ **I'm never gonna be good enough for you,**_

 _ **I can't stand another fight,**_

 _ **and nothing's alright."**_

* * *

Dora was confused, per usual. She had been chased by mutts, almost killed by Gamemaker traps, and had no beverages/meals for the entire length of her time in the arena. But, she had yet to encounter any signs of living tributes.

Sure, Dora had heard the many cannons booming within the days of the death match. She had seen faces in the sky, and in fact, she had seen it all. But she hadn't witnessed any signs of tributes near her. Not even shouts, screams, or the snapping of twigs. Dora desperately wished for someone who could help her out, but there simply wasn't anyone who could.

Huxley was dead. Everyone she cared about was gone, in general. She had survived to this the fifth day in the arena, but Dora knew her end was drawing near with each passing minute. She couldn't imagine herself surviving far enough to become the Victor of this year's Games, and she knew deep down, that if she was to encounter another tribute, she wouldn't make it if they engaged in battle in response to meeting. Dora felt like she was the only human being in the world now - alone and scared. The arena was playing tricks, and making her think of depressing thoughts.

Dora's throat tightened and her fear heightened as a soft rustling of the leaves, so quiet she may have imagined it, was heard from her left. She whipped around to check out the interruption, but nothing - or no one - was in her sight. Dora crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping it was no immediate danger. Or, if she had no luck, another tribute who was bloodthirsty and willing to kill to survive another day. She had gone so long - since the Bloodbath in fact - without seeing another person that if she did, she wouldn't be ready to fight.

Dora had never been ready to do anything, at all. She was never prepared, and was always the odd one out back in District Three. She was never prepared to school, always forgetting a notebook or a pencil. She wasn't smart, unlike her fellow peers that were the same age, or even younger. Dora never belonged anywhere.

This also meant, that Dora wasn't prepared as someone leapt and tackled her from behind, causing her to shriek in surprise and fall to the dirt-packed ground beneath her feet. Dora had somehow managed to twist her body during the plunge to the floor, so she had fallen on her back and was now facing the offending opponent.

Of course, being as unprepared as she always was, Dora did not recognize the person. It was a girl, who was pretty in her own natural way. She had smooth skin the beautiful color of mocha, and her hair was a dark shade. It was wavy and reached up to her chest. The girl looked muscular, and probably trained. A gulp travelled down Dora's throat as she noted this fact.

The girl was probably not from District One or Four, being dark-skinned. If she was a Career, this left District Two, which was very possible. Dora racked her mind to think of some other partially trained District that would contain this girl. District Seven? District Ten? Maybe.

She was pretty, but the only thing that ruined the whole picturquese view was the wild, delirious look in her otherwise dark-colored eyes. It was as if the girl had drove herself mad. That would be quite the simple, small task to do, of course, considering the death and gore the Games concealed. Dora, on the other hand, had a look of fear in her eyes as her orbs met the girl's ones.

Throat dry and cracked, Dora dared to ask, "Who are you?" She cleared her throat uncomfortably as she waited for the verdict. The girl intimidated her greatly, and Dora didn't want to die by her hands.

The black-haired young woman didn't respond verbally, though she gave Dora a once-over. Dora squirmed awkwardly, wanting the girl to get off her. Dora glanced around for the possible routes of escape, though her choices and options were very narrowed. The older girl was on top of her, with the Dora's arms trapped underneath the stranger's knees, in a similar state to her legs, which couldn't move beneath the pressure exerted in the girl's legs. Dora was completely held down, with no chance of escape.

Finally, the girl responded. "Not any information that you need to know." Sensing Dora's discomfort and uneasiness, she continued. "But what you _will_ need to know, is that your life will be ending very, _very_ soon."

Eudora noticed that, for the first time, the girl was holding a knife in her hands. A very sharp, pointed knife to be exact. Dora recognized it as one of the most dangerous knives, as she was taught at the knife station during Training. Speaking of Training, her time in the Capitol seemed so long ago and so far away. It was a life so carelessly thrown away by Panem's very own President Snow. Dora was homesick and desperate to see her old acquaintances: her family, minus her mother; her mentor; her stylist; and her prep team. Though she had disliked their doings back when she had time to care about what she was wearing or anything at all, now she wished to be back in their care and protection.

But there was no time, at least not in the present, to ponder on thoughts such as those of the past. The girl had lowered the knife towards Dora's neck and pricked the soft flesh, drawing the teensiest bit of blood. As much as the younger girl wanted to scream and move, she resisted the urge, remaining completely still, knowing that the girl had worst things in mind if she didn't follow instructions.

"There is more blood within this body of yours." The older teenager told Dora. "I could draw more. I'll make your death fast, if you keep being good. But if you aren't…well, let's just say this may _hurt_ a little."

The knife began lowering again, and Dora could sniff out the tension in the air. The girl was giving the Capitol a show, which was just what they wanted. They wanted an unforgivable, merciless death that would be talked about in Panem for ages. They wanted death. They wanted blood. They wanted a _fight._ But Dora realized that they didn't have to give their audience what they wanted.

With a split second to spare before the knife pricked her again, Dora moved her head to the side, causing the knife to miss and make its mark on the ground instead. The girl yanked it free from the ground, an outraged and dangerous look on her face. "Don't say I didn't want you: I'll make your death slow and painful!"

Before the offender could drive the knife down again, Dora took the opportunity to do a move she had never done before: a headbutt. She headbutted the girl, and the sound of a satisfying _crack_ was heard through the areas around the duo. The older girl's grip loosened as she dropped the knife on the ground next to her and clapped her hands to her nose. Apparently, Dora may have broken it. With no time to celebrate her victory, Dora scrambled from underneath the girl and, grabbing the discarded knife, began to sprint away.

The preceding minor was quick to pick up on things. Ignoring the blood gushing from her nose, she stood on her long, lithe legs and began to run after Dora. "I refuse to be outrun by a 12 year old!" The girl huffed angrily. She seemed to be going hard on herself.

Dora didn't have time to correct the girl that she, in fact, was not 12 years old, but was 14. She was too busy trying not to step on twigs and avoiding trees. Glancing behind her, Dora saw trouble appearing as the girl opened a vest and pulled out a throwing knife.

The girl kept her pace as she did this, but she managed to pull back her arm and throw the knife accurately while running at the speed she was. Dora watched, horrified, as in almost slow motion the knife came flying at her. Her brain had no time to register to duck or dodge as the knife came closer, eventually impaling itself in the soft flesh of her left shoulder blade.

Dora cried out in pain and terror, just shy of crashing into another tree. She swerved out of the way just in time, but tried to multi-task by pulling the knife out. Meanwhile, the girl increased her speed and was taking out yet another knife from her vest.

They were almost neck-to-neck now. They were in a race against themselves, and a race against time, to see just who would come out alive. Would it be Eudora, the unlikely 14 year old? Or would it be the mysterious older girl, who seemed to have better chances?

But, Dora unintentionally stumbled on a mound of dirt during her panic, and the next thing she knew was that she was catapulted through the air. The girl, caught in the trap, too, was thrown into the sky.

But those blissful moments that felt like flying couldn't last forever. Dora let out a scream as the ground started coming fast again, and just as she hit it, her body blew and shattered into many pieces. As with the girl. It was strangely similar to the way Zoe Mercedes was slaughtered.

Both adolescents realized their mistake too late. _It was a land mine, that Eudora had triggered._

Dora couldn't deal with the pain; it felt like her whole body was on fire. She needed to make it home, too see her family; she needed to see her Capitol friends. But did all that matter, when it came down to being happy?

Dora's brain registered the faint sound of two cannons echoing. The girl had died as well. Dora had always been alone at District Three, her whole entire life, but at least she died with someone.

Maybe they could hang out together in heaven.

* * *

 **Beetee Latier**

 _ **District Victor of the 35th Hunger Games. 54 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a little smarter than you**_

 _ **Smarter than you,**_

 _ **smarter than you,**_

 _ **Can't you see I'm smarter?"**_

* * *

They were making good progress on the problem at hand. The mentors had split into two groups; one to break into the chemistry lab and said reasons for President Snow's quarters. As for the former group, their leader was Prim Everdeen herself, and Enobaria, Finnick, and Beetee himself were assigned to that very group.

Prim acted so calm and mature during the current crisis they were facing, it was hard to forget that she was only the innocent, sweet 14 year old who won the 74th Hunger Games at the young age of 12.

As for the latter group, Johanna was their leader, and Cashmere, Gloss, and Seeder tagged along with her. Seeder may have been old, but she had moves.

Seeder was coping with the fact that her granddaughter Isobel died very well. Or so she said. Seeder was good at hiding her emotions. She simply stated that, "Death is a part of life." She was more worried how Isobel's best friend back home, Matt, was taking it.

Prim gave everyone on the opposing team a hug. "No matter what happens, guys, I'm proud of you." Beetee thought that it was unfair how Prim was aging fast and now sounded like the grownup of the team.

However, they parted ways. The chemistry lab was a hallway away from President Snow's office, so Prim's group turned down this corridor now. The chemistry lab's doors was in view, but Beetee, bringing up the rear, glanced behind him, to make sure they weren't being followed.

They weren't, but that may be changed. And very soon.

Prim ran to the door, and the rest of the group was hot on her heels, being sure not to make a sound. The silence that pressed around them was haunting and eerie, and somehow loud. It was the sound of silence.

One glance at it, and Finnick said, "It's locked."

The group was stumped for answers. Of course it was locked. How did they not think of that earlier, though?

After a thoughtful, though anxious, silence passed through, Enobaria dug into her pocket. "I got something." She announced, though quietly. She plucked something out of her jeans and handed it to Prim. It was a Swiss Army Knife.

Prim smiled gratefully at Enobaria in return. She double-checked that it was on the knife option, before sliding it into the crack on the doorknob. One twist was all it took, and the door pushed open. The group let out relieved sighs and high-fived Prim, though that may have been the easy part.

Careful to close the door, they tip-toed in cautiously. They could never be too careful in the Capitol; danger was lurking around every turn. They had to watch their step, and live and learn.

What to find was simple. Beetee spotted a black vault on the far wall of the room, and led the others to it. From all the times he had been in the chemistry lab, he hadn't seen it here before.

Goosebumps formed on everyone's arms as the chemistry lab was very chilly. Prim rubbed them with her hands in attempt to stay warm as Beetee tinkered with the fine object. The vault door popped open within seconds, due to his off-the-charts mechanical skills. The foursome glanced in, nervous for what they might see. Tension made the air thick.

What they saw was something they didn't expect. There were thirteen potions in all, each labelled carefully with a District number. Beetee picked up the one that was very first, which happened to say _D1._ "District One, I presume."

Prim stared at the one that was last. " _D13._ There _is_ no District Thirteen."

Everyone shrugged. "Maybe they made these when District Thirteen still existed." Finnick supplied, though he was looking as confused as the others felt. He was uncertain as to whether or not the mysterious District still thrived. There had been many rumors over the years.

They turned their thoughts to the more important problem. Beetee kept studying the vial in his hand. Suddenly, he paled. "It's a contagious disease." He whispered, putting it back into the vault. "They're planning on infecting one person in each District, which will spread to another person and another person."

Prim continued the horrifying thought. "Soon enough, _everyone_ will be infected. The Districts will die." She shook her head to clear her mind. "That's impossible. Wiping out an entire nation?"

They let that sink in for a few, silent minutes. Enobaria broke the ice. "So what are we waiting for?" She asked. She carelessly swiped the _D2_ glass container from the vault and raised it over her head. "Let's smash it."

Before Enobaria could complete the task, Finnick stopped her. "Then they'll know we were here."

She reluctantly put back the vial. Beetee closed the vault that hid President Snow's secrets and put his hand over the black door. "At least we know what they're hiding." He said, though uneasily.

The others chorused their agreement, though hesitantly. As they made their way out, they couldn't stop the feeling descending onto them that something terrible was going to happen.

* * *

 **President Snow**

 _ **President of Panem. 77 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,**_

 _ **Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah**_

 _ **It's such a beautiful country**_

 _ **But the man, he's burning it down."**_

* * *

 _They don't think I know what they're up to. They don't think I know their plans._

President Snow downed yet another wineglass and gestured for his Avox to get him more. He was holed up in the security room, which was filled to the brim with plenty of screens, which the security camera feed went through. He focused on the one just outside of his office, where the mentors Cashmere, Gloss, Seeder, and Johanna were trying to worm their way in. His maniac smile grew even wider, to the point where it looked like he was baring his teeth, as he watched Peacekeepers silently approaching the rebel group. His guards were so quiet, and the group so immersed in trying to break in, that they didn't notice them until it was much too late. The Peacekeepers knocked them out with a single move, before tying ropes around their wrists and ankles.

The Avox handed him back the wine glass, and Snow said, mostly to no one in particular, "To another victory." He took a sip, and broke into a fit of coughing. The Avox rushed forward to aid his master, but the white-haired man waved him away. "I'm fine." He croaked. "Old age."

He focused back on the cameras. The precious rebel group had gotten caught - how could they not think that he had cameras installed almost _everywhere_ in the building? President Snow shrugged. Their ignorance, their fault.

He looked around at the other computer monitors in attempt to find to find the other group, which he knew was lurking in the chemistry lab. When he found the correct feed, he frowned. Finnick, Prim, Beetee, and Enobaria were surrounding the black vault he had installed in there, looking at the vials. His smile came back quickly. _Now they know. So what? They don't know that I have a plan to stop them, either._ He was a mastermind tactician when it came to strategies.

Snow grinned. "They'll find out what happened to Haymitch very, _very_ soon." Then he raised his glass once more and took another sip of the wine.

Being President of Panem was a fine job.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Delia Montgomery: "** _ **Really Don't Care"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

 **Eudora "Dora" Macintosh: "** _ **Perfect"**_ **(sung by** _ **Simple Plan)**_

 **Beetee Latier: "** _ **Smarter Than You"**_ **(sung by** _ **The Undertones)**_

 **President Snow: "** _ **Dear Mr. President"**_ **(sung by** _ **4 Non Blondes)**_

* * *

 _ **14th - Delia Montgomery - D12F - To be honest, I never really knew what to make of Delia. She was the last tribute I received to this story, and she was a great character, but I always had some kind of writer's block while writing her. Not all of you thought very highly of her, but I loved her as my character, and she was hopefully an interesting person. We'll miss you…**_

* * *

 _ **13th - Eudora "Dora" Macintosh - D3F - I, hands down, loved Eudora! I know many of you did, too, so that's a plus. Dora was an amazing character, so I loved writing her and developing her. She was such amazing character, and was super easy to write. I would really love her to be Victor, but she realistically wouldn't make it. I hope you guys are okay with her dying. To clarify, she triggered a landmine and ended up blowing up herself and Isobel in the process. We'll miss you so, so much…**_

* * *

 _ **12th - Isobel Wild - D11F - This may come as a shocker to you guys. Isobel was an amazing character, who was so great! I loved her, and she was really easy to write as well. Isobel could've made it farther, but her submitter wanted to make her go down fighting and Dora's submitter suggested: "Set off someone else's trap and blow herself up by accident. Along with the person next to her." I incorporated the two ideas together and we ended up with Dora credited killing Isobel. It may have been confusing, but Eudora didn't recognize her so I had to refer to Isobel as "the girl". But still, Isobel Wild will be in our hearts forever.**_

* * *

 **As I promised, plenty of death this chapter! A total of three, to be precise! I hope you enjoyed this. It was sad writing it, and I hope you still continue reading after I killed off a reader favorite…*looks around sheepishly***

 **Anyway, I can't thank you guys enough for all the support and reviews. You're all so amazing!**

 **On another note, would you like it if I started a forum?**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

Eudora "Dora" Macintosh

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

Casey Taurus

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

 **Quince Lazarre**

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

Isobel Wild

Delia Montgomery


	38. Chapter 38 - Day Five Part Two

**Chapter 38 - Posted on ( 6/1/16)**

* * *

 **Ebony Williams**

 _ **District Four Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm,**_

 _ **And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold,**_

 _ **My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones,**_

 _ **It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me."**_

* * *

"And when I told Marina about it, she was like, 'No way.' Her face was so red, and it was one of the few times she was ever flustered." Ebony concluded, barely being able to speak through her laughter. Her face was as red as she had described Marina's in her story, though hers was from retelling the entertaining anecdote.

Ebony was reminiscing memories from District Four with Roy. She had just confided in him the most embarrassing story she could remember about her sister. Ebony knew Marina was probably steaming mad for this, double that Ebony was in her place. But Ebony didn't care right now; she wanted to live in the moments with Roy.

Roy's eyes danced with mirth. He chuckled along with Ebony, but they soon calmed down. She asked him, "Any funny stories from District Five?"

The mirth vanished from his startling blue eyes, and Roy became serious as he considered it. "Not really. Life wasn't as exciting as yours was." Thinking about it, Roy barely had time to laugh back home. His life before was filled with death, and drama, and tragedy.

Ebony shrugged. She had been so lucky back in District Four without even noticing it. How was she so blind to the meaning of life and she didn't even notice it?

The duo was silent for a moment, listening to the regular 'forest' sounds. All around the areas that surrounded them, they could hear croaking toads and frogs, deep ones and the kinds that make that whizzing sound that gets louder and then suddenly stops, leaving behind an abrupt silence. Chirping crickets, many different kinds, seem to be closing in, as there were so many of them. Ebony thought she even heard a howling somewhere in the distance. What could that be, a wolf, a coyote, a mountain lion? What is out here in the deep dark forest? Would she ever be brave enough to venture it further?

From her position lying on the floor, still tied up in ropes, she could see Roy next to her, opening his mouth to say something. But, a sudden symphony interrupted what he was about to say. A familiar Capitol symphony.

"The death count!" Ebony said excitedly. Luckily, it was right overhead, so even in her condition (she was still a hostage, of course) she could view it perfectly.

Roy was silent as he stared up at the sky, his neck inclined at the high angle. The Capitol music played for a few seconds more, and the Capitol seal flashed up. Then, to the interesting part: the death count.

Even if they didn't know each other very well, Ebony hoped that Bay wasn't killed. He was such a nice person, not the typical Career. If she didn't win, she wanted Bay or Roy to win in her place.

It went to District Three first, so Ebony still wasn't sure if Bay was part of the three cannons that boomed today. She knew that Huxley, the boy, was killed in the Bloodbath, so that Eudora girl was the only one from the District left. She must have died.

Her suspicions were confirmed once the young girl's face was shown in the sky. Ebony was saddened by the happy, innocent look on the hologram of Eudora's face; she didn't know she would suffer such a terrible fate. During Ebony's time with the Careers, they had singled out Dora to die in the Bloodbath. But Dora had taught Ebony a lesson. It was to never judge a book by its cover.

Dora's face was soon replaced with a strong contender's, which surprised Ebony immensely. It was Isobel Wild, the District Eleven Female. On one hand, Ebony was glad she was out, for two reasons. One, she could stop worrying if Bay had died, but now she could finally relax since it had skipped right to District Eleven; and two, Isobel was a high threat. Ebony wondered who could've killed them. Maybe her former allies, the Careers?

 _Stop thinking that way. When you leave Roy, you'll go back to them._ She chided herself mentally, as she did everyday. But this time there was an echo to her thoughts. _But can I bear to part with Roy, after all we've been through? Even Bay and I don't talk like Roy and I do now…_

Ebony shook her head clear. She would have to deal with her conflicting feelings later. It would have to wait.

The next face in the sky wasn't as surprising as the previous two. It was Delia Montgomery, District Twelve Female.

Roy commented, "I guess she was all looks, no brains or brawns. I wonder who - or _what_ \- killed her."

Ebony shrugged. The Capitol music played, and then stopped abruptly, leaving them to the sound of silence once more. Darkness seemed to be their friend in the arena; the only light that was filtering through the trees were the small illuminations coming from the purple lanterns, and the crescent moon's gleam. Roy leaned over Ebony so she could see his face. This reminded Ebony of what he was trying to say earlier, because the death roll interrupted.

"What were you going to say earlier?" Ebony asked him.

Roy took a deep breath. "I was going to say, that you could go back to the Careers." His blue eyes flickered up and met Ebony's. "If you wanted to."

"Whoa, whoa, _hold the phone."_ Ebony said, in an incredulous tone. "Don't you have worse plans in mind for me? Like, aren't you going to kill me?"

"Well, I'm going to untie your ropes, anyway. Then you're free to go wherever you want." Roy shrugged and kept a casual tone, but Ebony knew how hard this was for him.

This was going to be as hard for her as it was on him.

He gripped his knife tightly, and began sawing at the ropes that bound her wrists. His dagger was sharper than anything he'd ever used, coming from the Capitol, but the rope was even more durable. Maybe this could take a while.

Ebony leaned her head back, thinking of the Careers. Could she really return to them? Was it possible? Roy's offer seemed too good to be true. She thought of Clarence, the calm yet high-standard-setting leader; Jayda, the sweet yet sour District One Female; Vulcan, whom she never really liked, but learned to respect; Hestia, the mysterious and strong faithful follower of Clarence; Bay, the unlikely Career who was kind and laid-back; and...herself.

She was stuck, in between two worlds. It was a _huge_ dilemma, harder than any decision she could ever make. On one side of the scale was Roy. Once again, she never talked to anyone she way she did to him. It was so easy to laugh together, share funny stories together, and just, well, _be_ together.

On the other side, were the Careers. They were the threats to look out for in the Games, and they always had the best of everything that tributes could have; the most attention, previous training, and mostly good looks. They, on a regular basis, got kills. They were well-liked.

But did all of that matter, when friendship came first?

Roy was making good progress on the ropes. They were coming apart in his hands. He concentrated on cutting the ropes, and tried not to meet Ebony's gaze. "I have to get this over with." He said, ending the silence. He seemed almost awkward now. "You were the first friend I ever really had, so I would really want you to stay, but you don't have to."

She looked at him, her expression softening. "Roy, I'm not going back to the Careers." Ebony said, with a smile playing on her features.

Roy finally looked up at her, trying to gauge if she was kidding or not. She looked completely serious. Roy smiled and began to laugh - for no apparent reason at all.

Ebony started laughing too, and even though they were so loud, they didn't care if anyone could hear them. They had each other.

And that was why Ebony liked being Roy's friend.

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

Clarence released a long breath. A breath he didn't know he was holding.

Ebony was still gone. Everyone in the Pack was starting to give up hope for their lost ally, saying that it maybe wasn't worth it. But Clarence disagreed. A Career was a Career; they _had_ to find her.

Vulcan was still being no help. Suggesting things, ordering his allies to do things; in other words, trying to take over his job. He wished he could just skewer Vulcan through the heart with his sword and he done with it.

His followers were getting restless. They were tired of looking for Ebony. They wanted kills, mutts, or anything else to disturb the search. It was like she was just, well, _gone._ She was nowhere to be found.

The death roll had been shown. All of the Careers had stared up at the sky solemnly, as the faces of Eudora Macintosh, Isobel Wild, and Delia Montgomery flashed by. None of which had been killed by the Careers.

Clarence needed to go tribute hunting - but by _himself._ He was tired of Vulcan, and namely the rest of the alliance, complaining. He needed a break from the world, and he needed to do things by himself, become a tad bit more independent.

Being the leader of the Pack was a lot more complicated them he had ever fathomed before.

Clarence ran his hands through his hair to look presentable, and stood up. "I'm going tribute hunting, and alone." He announced to his alliance, looking pointedly at Vulcan. "I don't want any funny business going around here while I'm gone. Got it?"

He glanced around to see if anyone would dare disagree with the legendary Reiss. Jayda rose up, off the ground where she had been sitting cross-legged moments before. "Clarence, I think I should go with you." She said. It wasn't a suggestion, it was more like a command. "You don't know what's out there. We Careers depend on each other."

Clarence shrugged. He wouldn't mind Jayda's company - she was his District Partner, after all. "Well, suit yourself."

He gazed out to the rest of the alliance. Hestia was leaning up against a nearby tree and was breaking into a pack of crackers that had been in her backpack. Bay had tore a piece of bark off a tree and was using it to sharpen his spear. And Vulcan was just sprawled on the ground, looking irritating, as usual. Clarence barked out orders. "Hestia, you're in charge until I get back. If anyone tries to do anything, kill them." For good measure, he added, "Without hesitating."

Hestia gave him a little salute. "Got it."

Clarence and Jayda turned and walked deeper into the forest. The silence was penetrating them, and it felt like someone was watching them, getting ready to stab them in the back. Neither of them made a move to break the ice. Tribute hunting came before talking and having fun.

After what seemed like countless hours of nothing, Clarence froze and pointed up ahead. "There." He whispered, barely audible in attempt not to be heard by the humans - or _creatures_ \- lurking about.

Almost as an unspoken agreement, both of them strapped on their night vision goggles and peered through them. The darkness was no longer a problem as soon as they had the goggles on. An illumination of three figures were outlined. Clarence could tell that from their body type, that there was two boys and one girl.

The two District One tributes snuck up closer. Once they were near enough to hear the conversation, Jayda and Clarence pressed themselves against the tree, to try to disguise themselves as much as they could.

"I don't like it here." A female voice complained. "I feel like we're being watched somehow. We should move."

The two Careers exchanged eye rolls. If only the girl knew just _who_ was watching them.

A heavy sigh came next in the discussion. This time, an agitated, exasperated male's voice spoke up. "Azalea, we moved three times today. You _always_ feel like someone's watching us."

The said girl, namely Azalea, insisted. "I'm doing it for a good reason."

The trio remained silent after that. No sounds of moving or scuffling issued, so that must have meant that they stuck with the agitated-sounding male's plan. Clarence and Jayda glanced at each other, knowing that they might not have a lot of time left.

Clarence whispered softly, so that only they could hear, "Let's surprise them. Try to kill them all. If we do, three less competitors in the arena." Jayda bobbed her head up and down to show her agreement.

The duo, stealthy as a spy, ducked from their tree to the next. They continued doing the action throughout until they were at the tree located right behind the group. Clarence hoped the unknown alliance hadn't been alerted to another presence lurking throughout their territory. Luckily, the shadows seemed to have concealed the two Careers.

Clarence, with his free hand that was not gripping his silver sword, held up three fingers. He mouthed to his District Partner: "On the count of three." Jayda understood immediately and unsheathed her double swords from their holders. She had the option and luxury to equip her bow and arrow or katana instead, but she enjoyed the double swords the most.

Clarence slowly brought one of his fingers down, his sign now showing a two. Then a one. Then none…

The two of them immediately jumped out of their hideout, and right in front of the alliance. Their three opponents screamed and tried to pick up their weapons from the floor. But it was too late.

Jayda Newell and Clarence Reiss were upon them.

* * *

 **Jayda Newell**

 _ **District One Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You're hot and you're cold,**_

 _ **you're yes and you're no**_

 _ **You're in and you're out,**_

 _ **You're up and you're down."**_

* * *

Jayda multi-tasked and managed to disable the girl and one of the boys whom she suspected to be the District Eleven Male for a few moments: she kicked her leg out just as the girl began to run, causing Azalea to trip over it and fall to the ground. Then, the District One female spun the boy around at the same time so that this back was pressed up against the tree that she and Clarence were hiding behind just seconds earlier. Jayda shoved the tip of one of her double swords in front of the guy's throat, while she kept the other one at her side but ready to swing if necessary.

Clarence had managed to capture the other boy, whom was light-brown haired and gray-eyed. He held the boy by his wrists, which he had forced behind his back.

"Now that we're all here, tell me your allies' names and your name." Jayda started the 'pleasant' conversation, prodding her boy 'prisoner' to speak by shoving her sword ever so closer to his throat. One more centimeter, and the tip would dig into his flesh.

"Quince Lazarre." He whimpered, almost going cross-eyed trying to look at the sword, which was inching closer to his throat. The said Quince continued. "Azalea and Lignite are my allies."

It was easy to depict, out of the remaining two, who was Lignite and who was Azalea.

Jayda looked over at Clarence, wondering what to do next. He didn't pay any mind to her; he seemed to be deep in thought. Suddenly, his face lit up, meaning he had an idea. Clarence smiled in quite an evil way, and went on with his idea. "Well, we're going to play a little game."

Azalea, Quince, and Lignite looked uncertainly at each other, but listened to Clarence's proposal nevertheless.

"A game where one of you three die at the end." Clarence finished, that evil smirk back on his face. Gasps arose from the three of them, but Jayda silenced them with one, harsh look. Clarence was not done yet.

He continued, "Each of you have to vote someone in your alliance to die. They will be killed, and the rest of you will be spared. No voting to kill yourself. You must choose one of your allies instead."

Jayda thought that this might be Clarence's best idea yet. He was doing what he did best, and this way of killing one of them would be the perfect way to entertain the Capitol.

He began by pointing to Azalea. "Who do you vote to die?"  
The brown-haired girl squeezed her eyes shut, maybe hoping it would be just another bad dream. But when Azalea opened her eyes again, she was still facing the decision of killing one of her allies. Her brown eyes started to tear up. "I can't decide." She said, in a stressed tone.

Lignite looked at her, pained. Quince remained emotionless, though his body language suggested he was feeling discomfort at his ally Azalea's indecisiveness.

Jayda clucked her tongue. "Now, now." She purred, in that sticky sweet way of hers. "You will be killed as well if you can't decide." Clarence nodded his approval at the new rule.

Azalea sighed heavily. In a voice barely audible, but Jayda could tell was filled with regret, the brown-haired 16 year old said, "Quince."

Quince recoiled at that. "Me?" He asked, losing his emotionless expression. "Azalea!"

"You never done _anything_ for us." Azalea retorted. "You just care about yourself! You don't talk to us anymore! _We are not your slaves!"_

Clarence seemed amused, but stopped them nevertheless. "Come, now." He chided. "We must move on. What about you, Lignite?"

Lignite frowned, but the decision mustn't have been hard to make for him. He made his choice quite quickly compared to Azalea's dilemma time. "Quince." Lignite chose, not meeting his 18 year old ally's eyes.

Quince let out a guttural growl, almost like an animal's. Jayda could just imagine how frustrated he was feeling, how Azalea and Lignite had both voted to kill him. She wondered what he had done to earn his ally's distrust.

Clarence clapped his hands together, an excited look on his face. "We needn't continue. We have all the votes that are necessary." He turned to Quince, with almost a knowing look on his face. "Time to say bye, Lazarre.

"Any last words you want to say to him?" He asked the Parker male and Sequins teen. They both shook their heads at the prospect.

Jayda took pity on them. They really didn't have to witness their former ally's death, even though it would have been fun to watch their expressions. "Run along." She told them, almost in a bored tone. "Next time we meet, we will draw blood."

The duo didn't have to be told twice. Both brown-haired teenagers turned on their heels and sprinted away, never looking back over their shoulder.

Clarence looked over at Jayda. "Do you want to do the honors?" After all, that's what a good Career leader did. Jayda nodded and took up her sword again. Clarence stepped out of the way so she could do it.

Jayda stabbed one of her swords into his throat, and watched in satisfaction as blood starting pouring from the wound. Quince turned pale, like he saw a ghost, as he started choking on the metal and blood. Lack of oxygen made him stumble to the ground.

Jayda was having much fun, but she wanted to end his misery. She quickly got her other sword and stabbed it into Quince Lazarre's heart, ending his life instantly. _Boom._

She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Then she pulled both swords out of her victim, and stared at the blood coating the two weapons. The blood of Quince.

Clarence and her shared a smile, an almost crazed smile. "One down, ten to go."

And that exciting thought would keep them awake for hours.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Ebony Williams: "** _ **Yellow Flicker Beat"**_ **(sung by** _ **Lorde)**_

 **Clarence Reiss: "** _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by** _ **Taylor Swift)**_

 **Jayda Newell: "** _ **Hot 'N' Cold"**_ **(sung by** _ **Katy Perry)**_

* * *

 _ **11th - Quince Lazarre - D11M - I loved Quince. I think a lot of people liked him, as well. He was such a cheerful, optimistic boy, but the Games surely had changed him - inside and out. He was an example of what the Games could do to someone. He was one of the first tributes I gotten, and he was such a thrill to write for. Quince Lazarre was amazing. I hope his brother and his family can sort out their problems. I'm so sorry VeneratedArt for Quince's death, and for all you readers. But I promise Quince will be remembered forever.**_

* * *

 **Hi! So, another death this chapter! I told you I promised lots of death on Day Five. District Eleven is out now...did anyone suspect Quince's death coming so fast?**

 **I hope you like the remaining tributes. Any predictions on the Victor? Any people you would like for Final Five? This story is getting closer to its completion!**

 **Happy June, everybody! In just a few short more days, will be the third month anniversary of A Spell Broken!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

 **Bay Riverside**

Eudora "Dora" Macintosh

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

Casey Taurus

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

Quince Lazarre

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

Isobel Wild

Delia Montgomery


	39. Chapter 39 - Day Six Part One

**Chapter 39 - Posted on ( 6/2/16)**

* * *

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 _ **District Two Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **What's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being,**_

 _ **what's wrong with being**_

 _ **Confident."**_

* * *

Vulcan knew something was up when Jayda and Clarence came looping back to their camp with huge smiles on their faces. He had listened to Clarence's orders and didn't complain or try to talk to the others, though he knew Hestia was probably too soft to kill her allies. But he didn't want to risk it. He knew he was dangerously close to dying by Clarence's hands, anyway.

The Career duo bursted into the camp, looking pleased with themselves and on an adrenaline rush. Jayda quickly explained what had happened when Bay, Hestia, and Vulcan looked up at her, confused.

"We caused the last cannon by killing Quince Lazarre." She told them. Then Jayda went on to explain how they had saw an unknown alliance, went over, and made them vote for who died. They all voted Quince, so he was a goner once that happened.

"And I got to kill him." Jayda concluded. "Another kill for the Careers!"

Vulcan found himself cheering along with the rest of his alliance. That meant one thing was certain; the Top Ten. He mentally thought of who was left. Of course, the Careers; Clarence, Jayda, himself, Hestia, Bay, and Ebony. He wasn't sure if Ebony still counted as a Career, but Clarence insisted. Then next was that guy from Five, whom he always forgot he was still alive since he wasn't very memorable. Azalea from Eight was alive, and so was Rosemary from Nine. Finally, Lignite from District Twelve was in.

Vulcan smiled to himself. If they happened to make contact with the remaining outer lying District tributes, then they would be easy kills for the Careers. In order for Vulcan to win, all he had to do was to kill off those pesky weak ones, and then attempt to kill off his allies. That meant killing Clarence, which was probably impossible, but Vulcan could try.

A disembodied voice made them immediately hush and stop cheering. It was the voice of Azuria Barslow, the Master of Ceremonies. Vulcan instantly broke out into a smile, and cleansed himself of those thoughts he had been thinking just moments before. That meant an announcement.

Azuria began, "Hello, tributes. As you might know, there are ten of you left, and because of this we are declaring a feast. Meet at the Cornucopia, noontime. Attendance is mandatory, I repeat, attendance is mandatory. Of course, we can make sure that you'll get there. But if you're smart, you'd do it the easy way provided, and _not_ the hard way." The microphone clicked off, and Vulcan exchanged troubled glances with his allies.

Gone were the cheering Careers, replaced by doubtful competitors. Clarence ran his hands through his hair, a habit Vulcan knew he picked up when he was frustrated. "But we don't even know the way back to the Cornucopia." The Reiss boy let his statement out into the open and waited for it to sink in for the rest of the Careers.

As much as Vulcan hated to say it, it was true. They hadn't even been _near_ or in sight of the Cornucopia since they had left the Bloodbath. How were they going to find their way back now? And Azuria had stated, _attendance is mandatory._ Did that mean that they were going to be killed if they couldn't possibly show up? He strongly detested to think about all of the best contenders of the 76th Hunger Games, being wiped out in one day. That would be utterly embarrassing to the Career reputation.

"Maybe if we had a map of the arena, or something, we could find our way." Hestia rubbed her chin, deep in thought. Being a tribute was complicated. She wished she had just knew that _before_ she Volunteered for being one.

A small _ping_ interrupted the awkward silence, causing the five to look up. Vulcan spotted a sponsor gift floating just beyond his arm's reach. When it got a chance to sink down lower, he reached out and grabbed it. He looked closely at the side. "It says its for District Two." The rest of the Careers nodded. As an unspoken agreement, they let the Hardy boy open it.

Vulcan made a big show of flexing his muscles, which he had a lot of. Training for years and years had really helped with his stamina, and focus. He was stronger than some grown men back in District Two, in fact. After Vulcan completed his theatrics, he popped open the lid and peered in. Resting just inside the metal canister, was a rolled up piece of parchment. He looked back up. "Some kind of paper is in there." He reported.

Clarence looked at him, with a glare that clearly stated, _Well, see what it is!_ In return, Vulcan scowled, but followed the suggestion. He let the metal canister drop to the ground after he pulled out the paper.

Unraveling it, it revealed to be a map of the arena, just like Hestia had wanted. Giving it a quick onceover, Vulcan noted that there was a marking from a pen on it. It said, _You are here,_ with an arrow pointing to a remote place on the diagram.

He shrugged, and handed it over to Hestia's awaiting hands. Her eyebrows knit together as she studied the map. "That's kind of creepy, that they just gave me what I asked for just after I said it. Do you think there's some kind of hovercraft following each tribute? There's no way it could have gotten here this fast otherwise."

Everyone just looked at each other in turn. They knew that there was always _something_ following them in the arena, such as a tribute or even an animal, but hovercrafts following their every move took it to a whole new level. It was enough to send chills down Vulcan's back.

"Well, how do you think they send the video feed to the rest of Panem?" Bay pointed out, logically. The others agreed with his idea. This made Vulcan think of how his father was doing, even Lynn and his friends. He wondered if his dad was even watching him right now. Didn't he mean anything to his own father?

Clarence took the map, interrupting Vulcan's thoughts. "Well," The blonde-haired leader said crisply. "At least we know where we are. Good news and bad news. Good news is that we have the map. Bad news is that we're about as far as we can get from the Cornucopia yet still be part of the arena." Clarence traced the path of where they should go with his index finger, a frown on his otherwise handsome features.

Jayda said, in a thoughtful tone, "If it was just a usual day back in the Districts, it's probably an hour or so before noontime right now. That gives us plenty of time to make it there."

Hestia wasn't usually one to throw up roadblocks, so Vulcan was surprised she was doing so now. "But what if we can't make it in time? Will we die? We still need a strategy."

Everyone looked to Clarence again, who cleared his throat. "We _will_ make it in time. We just have to believe." He said firmly, trying to use all of his willpower to make his allies believe it. Clarence, after all, was a very persuasive young man who knew that he was doing. "As for strategy, we go in and go out, no questions asked. Try to kill as many people as possible." Was it just Vulcan's imagination, or did Clarence give a sideways, sly look at Bay? Vulcan got the same chill again. Was their leader planning something - to kill one of their alliance members?

 _Nope_. He thought. _Clarence would_ never _kill one of his allies...or would he?_ Vulcan shook himself clear of his thoughts - it was obvious that he was getting too far ahead of himself. But one, eerie speculation still clouded his mind.

 _What if Clarence is after_ me _next?_

* * *

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

 _ **District Nine Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm just a believer that things will get better,**_

 _ **Some can take it,**_

 _ **Or leave it,**_

 _ **But I don't wanna let it go."**_

* * *

Rosie had heard the announcement Azuria Barslow had just made. But instead of feeling glee - maybe the feast had backpacks and food or something - she felt absolute dread. She knew that this might be the last day she could ever live in her lifetime.

There were going to be Careers there. Strong opponents, who she would never stand a chance against. What about the Twelve Male, or Eight Female? Rosie hadn't seen a person in what seemed like ages, so if she had to fight, she'd be totally out of whack.

At least one threat, Isobel, was dead now. Rosie wasn't such she even would be able to put up a fight with a trained person like the Wild girl, even though she _had_ outlasted her.

Rosemary still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she was in the Top Ten. Pre-Games she had imagined dying in the Bloodbath, maybe even being the first person to die. But no - Top Ten. It was so much of a difference than being in 24th place. Tears stung her brown eyes as she thought of her parents back in District Nine, saying to her, _Rosie, you make me proud._

Thinking of District Nine made her think of Casimir, her sweet, kind District Partner. How were his parents dealing with his death, especially after Tessa had died, too? The Moretti family was dropping like flies. This ought to be hard on them. If Rosie won the Games - which was probably going to be impossible - she vowed to help out Casimir's family any way she could.

Rosie realized that, if she was going to go to the feast, she should get a move on. It might take a while to get to the Cornucopia, and after all, she didn't really know where she was going. All she could do was hope she was in the right direction. She stood up, and picked up her bow, which was sitting unused by her side. Strapped to her back was the arrow quiver, also unused. Since both were in near mint condition, they were collecting a thin layer of dust. Rosie hoped she _wouldn't_ have to use it. The last thing she wanted was to become a murderer, with the blood of a tribute staining the tip of one of her arrows.

Rosie began to walk, at a fast-pace. Being late to the feast was one thing she most definitely did not want to do, especially since she was required to be there. It was be there or be square; square, in this case, meaning dead.

* * *

She didn't know long she'd been at it; maybe thirty minutes. Nevertheless, Rosie began to recognize the area as she wandered what she hoped was closer and closer to the Cornucopia. She remembered that oddly shaped bush, and the tree with many lanterns strung from it. Rosie realized that she remembered this place. She was here! And right on time!  
Evidently, she was the last of the ten remaining tributes to arrive. The others must've gotten there early. Everyone glanced warily at her once she stepped onto the fresh, green grass of the Cornucopia. Rosie felt like running and eventually hiding underneath a rock - that is, if she would fit under one. Even how much she had changed during the course of the 76th Hunger Games, Rosie was still as shy as she had ever been.

Azuria's voice, which seemed sweet and kind at the time of the interview but was now flat-out annoying, rang out across the arena again. "Well, we're all here now. Let's give you a little insight on what's going to be happening.

"In case you don't know, a feast is when the Gamemakers bring the remaining tributes to battle it out. Hopefully, a Victor will be declared today." Rosie shivered at the words. But Azuria barged on. "We'll start a countdown of 60. Landmines are going to be switched on once the countdown starts. You are welcome to leave or to stay once the feast truly begins."

Azuria's voice was soon replaced by robotic counting. Rosie shivered again; this reminded her all too well of the Bloodbath. The very Bloodbath Casimir had been killed in…

With nothing better to do, Rosie studied each tribute. Tension in the air was thick, especially around the Careers, which was odd. She thought Careers were supposed to be unstoppable, undefeatable killing machines. But, instead, a group of five Careers were frowning uncertainly at the District Four Female, Ebony Williams, who was standing across the Cornucopia. For the first time, Rosie realized that Ebony was not standing with them. Could she have possibly done something to betray the alliance?

The District Five Male - whose name was Royce or Ray or something along those lines - was standing next to Ebony, his hood pulled over his head, and his arms crossed. He was standing stiffly and rigidly, as if uncomfortable. How close he was standing to Ebony made Rosie wonder as if she left the Careers for him.

Azalea Sequins, from District Eight, was standing next to the District Twelve representative, Lignite Parker. They both looked poised to run into battle at any moment; Rosie could tell by how tight Azalea was gripping her stiletto knife. Likewise with Lignite and his pickaxe.

The Fields girl knew that everyone at least had one ally - except for her. So she was the outlier. She had started with the one of the biggest alliances, but she had ended by herself. By herself and alone, with no one to turn to. No Dylan to laugh with, no Kinsie to rant with, no Casimir to help calm her down in the toughest situations, no Casey to talk with. Rosie was a lone wolf from now on.

And in that split second, she knew, that she had to win. For the kind, naive Casimir. For the shy, innocent Dylan. For the spitfire, bubbly Kinsie. For the brave, sweet Casey. And of course, for her family. For her District. For everyone.

Rosie's brain faintly registered the robotic voice counting down from ten seconds now. Then nine. Then eight.

Rosie would have to at least try. She didn't want to fight, but to make it home she had to never give in.

 _Never give in to the pain, the suffering, or the problems. I am Rosemary Fields, and I am a believer. I_ won't _give up._

All too soon, the familiar gong sounded, and the second Bloodbath of the Games was underway. Rosie wasn't prepared, as she was lost in thoughts. She stood, shell-shocked, at the same spot she was a minute ago, and watched the horror unfold before her very eyes.

The other nine tributes ran towards the center of the Cornucopia, bloodlust clouding their visions. The Careers ran in a pack, but Clarence was keeping his distance. Rosie wondered what was up with that. Wasn't Clarence their leader or something?

Too late, she realized Clarence's plan. Rosie watched with horrified eyes as the Careers engaged battles with the people around them - all except Bay Riverside. Bay was standing back, spear in hand, looking for someone to target. There were many options - he was most likely considering hunting down an outlying District tribute; maybe Azalea, Roy, or Lignite.

But before the 17 year old had a chance to turn around, a silver sword, gleaming in the moonlight, entered his body. Bay fell to the ground, weakly twisting his head around in attempt to see his murderer. He looked shocked from the inside out - and was probably feeling utterly betrayed - when Clarence was pulling the sword out of his back with a wicked smile.

Rosie could hear Ebony's gasp from across the Cornucopia, and 'colorful' words spewed out of the blonde girl's mouth. Rosie knew she should probably be leaving now, or she might be hunted by Clarence himself, but something kept her rooted to the spot.

From her spot, standing on the grass, she could hear Clarence as he leaned down and whispered in Bay's ear. "You have been acting strange around me for the past few days. You wouldn't tell me why. It's like, you don't care about being in the Pack anymore."

Bay was unresponsive as he lay, dying on the ground, listening to Clarence's final words to him. Rosie found herself feeling bad for the Riverside male, even though he _was_ a Career. But he didn't deserve to be killed by his ally, and all because he was acting strange or something.

Clarence continued. "I'm sorry, but for that you'll have to pay. If you don't want to be part of the Careers, you'll have to pay the ultimate price of death." He gave his sword one final yank, and finally it came out of Bay's body. Rosie turned away and gagged at the sight of it. The disgusting taste of bile flooded her mouth and she resisted the urge to throw up. The sword was covered in Bay's blood.

She hadn't known how ruthless Careers could be.

Even though Rosie couldn't see the two Career males, she could still hear Bay as he gasped for air. He apparently gave up when his end was near. He couldn't go on any further. The wound was fatal. To Clarence, Bay whispered a soft, "I thought I could trust you…"

Then the 17 year old slumped down, all the life pouring out of him all at once. His body turned still as he lay facedown on the grass, his blood staining the greens. As the cannon boomed, Rosie knew one thing was for certain.

The first blood of the Feast had been spilled.

* * *

 **President Snow**

 _ **President of Panem. 77 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,**_

 _ **Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah**_

 _ **It's such a beautiful country**_

 _ **But the man, he's burning it down."**_

* * *

President Snow was pleased with his own handiwork. He had managed to capture one group of mentor rebels, but let the other group be, having a more tortuous idea in mind for them. But he would have to be patient, and wait for time to pass. He would have to plan his tactics accordingly.

The white-haired President was still up in the security room, watching all cameras with a hawk's eye. Anything suspicious, and his Peacekeepers would take care of it. His smile grew wider. Being President was, not only a fine job, but was an easy one at that.

He peered closely at the screen on the far left, which was sending camera feed from a hospital suite; to be specific, Lynx Maybelle's hospital suite. The young Victor still hadn't recovered, and Snow was glad for that. She was quite the feisty spitfire, truth be told. The only problem he had with her being in the state she was in now, was that he was confused as to what caused her to go to the hospital in the first place. Apparently she had lost a lot of blood, but for what reason?

But soon, his view of Lynx's hospital room changed completely, changing into a fuzzy blur. Snow frowned; this was odd. In the Capitol, almost nothing went wrong with the electricity. Maybe some technical difficulties?

However, his point was proven wrong when the fuzzy blur morphed into the shape of a stormy gray-eyed, platinum blonde-haired girl, who looked to be about 18 years of age.

Snow frowned again, and yelled for some Peacekeepers. When they came, he didn't pay any mind to them. He was too busy watching the screens with a mild interest. Someone hacking into his computer database? Unheard of. The person who did this had to be really intelligent, or just really lucky. If it was on his computer, than it could've been broadcasted across the Capitol - or dare he say the whole Panem - at the moment.

The young woman's features were slightly undefined, though it fixed itself in just a few seconds. She opened her mouth and began to speak. Snow focused his attention rather than on this being broadcasted across Panem to what the girl was saying.

"My name is Lynn. I'm only going to say one thing - and that's _Eagle._ " She winked mysteriously at the screen. "And President Snow? Tell Vulcan Hardy I said hello."

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Vulcan Hardy: "** _ **Confident"**_ **(sung by** _ **Demi Lovato)**_

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields:** " _ **Believer"**_ **(sung by** _ **American Authors)**_

 **President Snow: "** _ **Dear Mr. President"**_ **(sung by** _ **4 Non Blondes)**_

* * *

 _ **10th - Bay Riverside - D4M - I loved Bay; he was so different than the typical Career. He was kind and yet at the same time just wanting to be like Finnick Odair. The only reason I killed him off was because I knew I needed a Career death. It would intensify the Games, and especially since his own ally killed him. Otherwise I would have kept him alive. However, I just couldn't. Bay was important to the plot, and hopefully taught you that Careers are not always that bad. I know he definitely has taught me.**_

* * *

 **So the Feast begins! Do you predict any deaths coming up? I don't have much to say now, but that we're one step closer to finishing the story! I can't wait until you see who I picked for Victor!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 **Vulcan Hardy**

 **Ebony Williams**

Bay Riverside

Eudora "Dora" Macintosh

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

 **Rosemary "Rosie" Fields**

Casimir Moretti

Casey Taurus

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

Quince Lazarre

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

Isobel Wild

Delia Montgomery


	40. Chapter 40 - Day Six Part Two

**Chapter 40 - Posted on ( 6/4/16)**

* * *

 **Before you read this chapter, please go back to Chapter 39 and read that, if you haven't done so already; the reason being that I posted the previous chapter before the 24 hour time limit thing so it didn't go to the top of the archive. Not sure if you get a notification even through the 24 hour time limit, but do go back and read Chapter 39 if you haven't. Things will make a lot more sense.**

 **By the way, happy 40 chapters!**

* * *

 **Hestia Gabbro**

 _ **District Two Female. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Two feet below the surface**_

 _ **I can still make out your wavy face,  
and if I could just reach you **_

_**maybe I could leave this place."**_

* * *

As the cannon boomed, Hestia felt faint and dizzy - like she was going to pass out. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the unfairness of it all. Clarence Reiss - their usually calm, reasonable leader - had just killed Bay - a mostly innocent ally who was fun to be around and cool to hang out with?

Whatever the reason Clarence did that was, he was looking mighty pleased with himself. Hestia could tell from the villain-like look on features. He looked absolutely evil - almost looking like he had gone mad. His eyes were clouded over with the need to kill. He needed to feel the blood pouring out of the victim's wounds, hear their helpless screams…

Hestia couldn't relate. Sure, she was a Career, but Careers weren't always like that, were they? Take Bay for example. He had been different than the usual trained District representative - that was, before he died. He was cool, humorous, and fun-loving. He was chill, and knew exactly what to do to lighten the mood. He had gotten a kill, but it was practically a mercy-kill, just to put Celine Woodman back in her rightful place. After all, Celine was driven insane by something. Bay had taught Hestia that, no matter what people think of the 'bad guys', it wasn't what was on the exterior that mattered. It was what was on the interior - the internal traits. Who you were inside. Look didn't matter.

She suddenly felt slightly light-headed and dizzy, for no apparent reason at all. Hestia knew that, all her life, she hadn't cared about her internal traits. She felt like she had to win it all - become a tribute, win the Games, and graduate to Victor. But how could she do that when, know she knew, that all of this was completely, absolutely wrong?

Hestia felt something moist on sliding from her right tear. It was a tear. And yet that small, salty tear changed _everything._ Hestia didn't deserve to live. She would have to die.

Out of the corner of her eye Hestia saw Clarence approaching her. She knew he didn't have any reason to kill her, but the wild look in his eyes was enough to scare her. For the first time in Hestia's life, she felt terribly frightened, like a small little kid.

This. Was. It.

Letting out an anguished cry, she brought her own machete up to her chest and, without hesitation, stabbed herself in the heart. Life left Hestia almost instantly, the blood draining out quickly. She heard her cannon boom in the distance, but it felt miles away. She didn't care that she had killed _herself_ \- it was better than Clarence killing her, after all. Her only thought was, _I'm free…_

* * *

 **Roy Lentz**

 _ **District Five Male. 15 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **I'm a survivor (what?)  
I'm not gon' give up (what?)  
I'm not gon' stop (what?)  
I'm gon' work harder (what?)"**_

* * *

Roy looked to his left, and saw Hestia raising her own machete to a position right in front of her heart. Roy squeezed his blue eyes shut and turned away, knowing what she was planning to do. He wondered why. Most Careers - excluding Ebony - had two drives as motivation in their minds; to kill and to win. So why did Hestia choose to end her life instead?

The cannon was a confirmation, moments later. It was the second Career death of the 76th Hunger Games, and Hestia Gabbro had placed 9th.

Speaking of Careers, Ebony was standing by his side. Just to do something, they were pursuing Lignite Parker, the District Twelve Male. Lignite was currently dodging their attacks, but looked in no state to continue fighting. He looked weakened and tired out. Roy wanted nothing more than to spare the 18 year old's life, but Ebony must've still had a part of that Career motivation in her brain, and kept landing blows with her flail that he finally gave her back. And still speaking of Careers...Vulcan Hardy was approaching them, and murderous look in their eyes.

Roy tugged on the sleeve of Ebony's jacket nervously, and she stopped fighting. In that split second she did, Lignite seized the chance to flee and run. He dove into the Cornucopia, narrowly avoiding Jayda Newell, who was running and grabbing all the backpacks she could for the Careers.

Ebony followed Roy's gaze and noticed Vulcan sprinting towards them at top speed. If looks could kill, both of their dead bodies would have been in a wooden crate in an aircraft, being sent to their families. But looks _couldn't_ kill. So they still had time, even how little it was.

"Run!" Ebony screamed, taking off right away, arms and legs in attempt to remain swift. Roy was hot on her heels. But their rapid pace was no exception to Vulcan's long legs. Within seconds, he was upon them, murderous look in his dark eyes and all.

He grabbed both of them by the scruffs of their necks. Roy was taller than Ebony, at least, but compared to Vulcan he was an elf. They were both yanked backwards and ended up being sprawled on the ground. Roy groaned at the impact, and as did Ebony. They both lay, defeated. Nevertheless, they struggled to their feet.

Vulcan vociferated at the top of his lungs, all the while glaring daggers at Roy. "You captured her! You brainwashed her!"

Roy cowered underneath the big guy's gaze, but tried to find his voice. When it was finally located, he tried to disagree, "You only got one part right. I didn't brainwash her! She _chose_ to stay with me instead of back to you guys!"

Luckily, Clarence didn't hear Roy's outburst, or else Ebony and him would be dead within seconds. But Vulcan did, and he let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, right. And what makes you think that I'd believe you?"

Ebony trembled, but spoke up. "Vulcan, you don't understand. I _did_ choose to stay with him, and if I'm going back to the Careers, I'll take him with me!"

Vulcan switched his attention back to Roy. "You _did_ brainwash her! You die for that!"

Roy barely registered the words, but as soon as he did, a tomahawk axe was flying towards him at full force. In shock, he stood rooted to the spot, and didn't try to escape. He probably deserved an axe in the chest, anyway. Roy closed his eyes and waited for the axe to bury itself on his body.

But he didn't feel anything at all.

Confused, Roy opened his eyes again and scanned his surroundings. Wasn't dying supposed to hurt? But no, somehow he was still alive. Were the Gamemakers so kind as if to spare him?

But then he saw it. And all of the puzzle pieces fell together with one huge _click._

He was still alive, but for a price.

Ebony had taken Vulcan's axe for Roy, in the split second he had closed his eyes. She had jumped in front of him and sacrificed herself for him. _Ebony Williams is gone._

Vulcan seemed content with the one death he had caused, and turned away, pursuing another tribute. But Roy was far from content. He was still alive, but not with Ebony. He was alone.

However, Ebony wasn't completely gone yet. There was still some life left in her. "Roy." She croaked. He leaned down, tears blurring his vision, and knelt at her side.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." He said softly, almost apologetically. "I could've just as well took the axe. You could've become Victor, had kids, started a family. This didn't have to happen!"

Ebony weakly reached up and squeezed his hand. "Friends?" She asked, a smile playing on her lips. Roy found himself smiling as well. "Friends." He confirmed.

The blonde girl continued smiling, even as the life poured out of her. And finally, her hand went limp in his. Her eyes were wide open, and Roy lowered her eyelids gently, so she looked more in peace, and not like she was watching him. Ebony Williams wasn't just a Career. She was the girl who stole his heart. And she would continue to live there forever, for just as long as he was alive.

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

Clarence's smile was wide as he surveyed his work. There had been three cannons that had boomed already, though he didn't know who the third cannon was. Hopefully not one of his allies that he actually _trusted_ \- besides, at least two had died already _._ But three cannons weren't enough. He wanted a remake of the Bloodbath. Clarence would go for another one.

He scanned the area, looking for a person who was vulnerable. At the edge of Clarence's peripheral vision, he spotted that District Nine Girl, edging towards the area surrounding the Cornucopia. Rosemary, her name was. His smile widened further. He knew he wasn't going to let her escape alive, if his life depended on it.

Rosemary noticed him staring straight at her, and looked back at him with fearful eyes. The brown-haired girl immediately turned on her heel and sprinted into the forest, clumsily tripping over twigs and tree roots along the way

But Clarence wouldn't let her get away without a pursuit. He broke into a run and darted through the trees, Rosemary not far up ahead. He didn't care that he was getting farther and farther from the arena. He needed a third kill, in addition to Huxley and Bay. He dodged every obstacle, as graceful as a gazelle. His speed matched those of a cheetah's.

As cliche as ever, Rosemary tripped over something which he could not identify and fell over on the ground. Her jacket seemed to be caught on the object and upon further inspection, it was a sharp branch. Clarence rolled his eyes in irritation at the girl's cluelessness. He thought these things only happened in books and make-believe stories. Rosemary writhed and squirmed on the ground, trying to break free, but her luck had run out. There was no chance of her escaping.

Clarence jogged over, his sword in hand, and leaned over the girl. She was still struggling frantically, and she met his gaze, looking like a scared little child. Rosemary Field's time was running out. Without a word, he hovered his sword right over where her heart would have been.

But quick as an eel, and before Clarence could do anything, Rosemary lashed out and grabbed an unused arrow from her quiver. Before she could change her mind, she stabbed it into Clarence's arm, making him drop the sword on the ground with a frustrated cry.

Rosie rolled to her feet and grabbed the sword herself, anger in her eyes, and looking ready to stab him again. She had ripped her jacket from the fallen branch, the cover up earning a tear in the process, but she was still alive. Rosemary spoke up for the first time. "I mean no harm, but I'll kill you if I have to." Clarence noted, with satisfaction, that her voice trembled.

He answered with sass; the Reiss boy wasn't about to give up that easily. Though his dominant weapon was the sword, he had been trained to use various other damage-inflicting choices as well. He drew his knife from its sheath, and waved it in the air, mocking Rosemary. "Step aside. Your life is balanced on the edge of the knife - _literally."_

As an unspoken agreement, they both charged. Sword met knife, and the metal clashed with one, huge _clang_ that Clarence was sure could be heard even from the Cornucopia. Sparks flew off each weapon dangerously, as if electrified. Clarence feinted an attack but instead aimed for her shoulder, sinking the knife into the flesh. He quickly pulled it out before Rosie even had a chance to scream. Rosie was off guard, and didn't even move as Clarence sunk the knife into her arm, this time.

She sprang back to life, fighting for all she was worth. She twisted and twirled with her new weapon, glad that she had taken the sword course back during Training in the Capitol.

But Clarence had the upperhand, and Rosie was at a slight disadvantage. He had been training for years with the said weapon, which was much longer than her window of time had been. Clarence slammed the hilt of his knife into Rosie's face, hearing the satisfying yell of horror from his victim. Blood dripped from her nose, but it only angered and annoyed her more. Rosie launched herself at Clarence and stabbed, feinted, and slashed with the sword. Clarence fell back against a tree, more tired out than anything. He didn't think he would ever show weakness in the Hunger Games, especially not to a lowly outlying District girl. But now he was, and that just proved for him not to make assumptions.

Rosie held the sword poised inches from his heart, which was thundering and thumping loudly in Clarence's chest. For a while she had seemed like a savage beast, but now she seemed like a frightened girl again. "I'm sorry." She whispered, her face ever the picture of shame and sorrow. "I need to make it home."

She raised the sword over her head, but she never got to swing. She looked down, confused, at the knife sprouting from her chest. Then she slumped forward, and fell, dead, onto Clarence.

Clarence pushed her off him with a glare. He was breathing heavily, but was smiling on the inside. A third kill, though it had been dangerous. The encounter with the now dead Rosemary Fields educated him not to underestimate the tributes who were not Careers.

He pried Rosie's fingers off his sword, which, though her in dead state, she was still gripping tightly. He withdrew his knife as well, and placed it back into the sheath where it had remained for the majority of the Games. Clarence Reiss started to make his way back to the Cornucopia, where more prey would be awaiting him.

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

Bodies - both living and dead - filled the Cornucopia. Azalea felt spooked and frightened as she eyed the dead ones. Most of them had died with their eyes open. It was shell-shocking, for all of the deaths that had been caused at the Feast to her knowledge had been all Careers. Maybe all of the Careers could be eliminated in the Feast alone, leaving it to the non-Careers to battle it out.

A cannon boomed just then, almost as if to prove her point wrong. Azalea studied the Cornucopia, a curious look on her features. Lignite was at her side. Roy Lentz was standing near the dead figure of Ebony, and was just staring at the grass, looking in no mood to fight. Jayda was rummaging through a backpack and Vulcan was smashing open crates, looking like he was trying to find a new weapon to use. The two people who were not in sight were Rosemary Fields and Clarence Reiss. Maybe they were on the other side of the Cornucopia. But a cannon just boomed. If Clarence was the one who was killed, then Azalea would be extremely relieved, as she wasn't sure if anyone who was still alive could kill him. Maybe Clarence Reiss would be declared Victor of the 76th Hunger Games. But if that would be to happen, Azalea wouldn't be going down without a fight.

Azalea was still surprised she made it this far at all. If she died next, she would still be in 6th place, and even that would be good enough for her. Azalea was expecting to die at the Bloodbath, but look at her now! She was still surviving and in Top Ten, and maybe she had a shot at winning. If she could get past the Careers.

Surprising herself, she reached down and grabbed Lignite's hand. When he looked at her in a confused way, she whispered, "Promise we'll be the last two?" She didn't want to kill him, but if anyone was going home instead of her, she would want it to be Lignite.

He nodded, and squeezed her hand for reassurance. "Whatever you want to do." Lignite responded. They stood, hand-in-hand, watching as havoc unfolded again.

Jayda and Vulcan had gotten together again, and they seemed to be in a heated debate. Azalea couldn't hear the words that were rolling off their tongues, but she had caught a few words, such as _last battle_ and _fight it out_ and _die bravely._ As the two Careers parted again, she seemingly understood. The Newell girl and Hardy boy were going to have one last epic battle, Career-to-Career, and whoever would win would be prove to be stronger. Of course, losing meant paying the ultimate price: death. Jayda and Vulcan looked confident, though. Azalea wondered who would be the one to emerge alive out of this. Would it be Vulcan, who looked like a mountain of muscles? Or would it be nimble, fleet-footed Jayda, who was training her whole life for this moment?

They drew their respective weapons; tomahawk and double swords. And then Jayda charged, running forward with the sole intent to kill.

Vulcan didn't bother moving forward. He simply threw his axe with all his might, and narrowed his eyes as he watched it fly through the air. Unfortunately for him but fortunately for Jayda, it only grazed her arm, leaving a scrape. Blood was only seeping out, which meant that the injury wasn't serious. Jayda smirked triumphantly and continued running forward, putting on a burst of speed. As she neared, she tried to tackle Vulcan but instead he shifted to the side, and Jayda wasn't able to seize him.

She was stunned for a moment that Vulcan wasn't in her clutches, but she soon shook it off and turned on her heel. Jayda flung her long, right sword at him, and managed to scratch his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. But she was too slow. Vulcan managed to grab the sword by the hilt, right out of her hand, and he was equipped with a weapon again. Though it wasn't his dominant weapon, Vulcan still had some background knowledge to its usage, and he was able to use it just fine.

Jayda levelled a glare at him and swiftly rolled in between his legs, popping up behind him. Vulcan whirled around quickly, and countered her attack. He lashed out a leg as Jayda was distracted, and his foot managed to hit her knee. Azalea could hear a loud _pop_ from where she was currently located. Jayda clutched at her knee, but instead of the injury causing her mild pain, it only made her more annoyed. Jayda swept her sword through the air and sunk it into Vulcan's stomach.

Vulcan roared so loud that Azalea felt the area around them shake. He dropped his sword, and with quick reflexes Jayda managed to catch it by the hilt before it hit the ground. He clutched at his stomach with obvious pain, and he continued to vociferate a 'pleasant' word choice loudly. But as abrupt as it had started, it had ended. Vulcan fell to the ground, dead, and his cannon sounded. Azalea turned away, not wanting to see the damage inflicted to the 18 year old boy. She had thought Careers could endure much more than that, but Vulcan dying from being stabbed in the stomach proved at Careers were just regular people, too.

Regular people who had trained all their lives to kill others and be a tribute.

Clarence burst out of the forest and back into the Cornucopia clearing. He stared in confusion at Vulcan's dead body, but he saw Jayda's sword sticking out of his stomach and put the pieces together. Tension was thick in the air as the Career leader strode over to Jayda. They started conversing about how many Careers were left, but upon glancing at the dead bodies it was quickly determined that they were the only Careers left. Azalea gradually grew bored of the conversation. Her knees buckled from lack of energy, and she kneeled down on the grass. Her legs felt extreme relief to finally be sitting. Lignite joined her.

She broke the silence. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

"I know. So much death. I think it was five cannons today."

"We should really get some rest."

"I know." Lignite repeated. They were silent for moments after that. The duo simply watched the other tributes. Roy was still rooted to the same spot he was before. He looked tired and defeated as well, but he had no choice but to continue on with the Games.

Interrupting the quiet peacefulness of the tributes that was bound not to last long, the Capitol music began to play, and it rang throughout the arena, mocking the tributes of what they didn't have. The five remaining tributes looked up at the starry sky, knowing that it was the death count. The bees stopped buzzing, the cicadas stopped chirping, and the Careers stopped talking. The focus was just on the the sky.

The first face to appear was Hestia's. Azalea felt an unusual pang of sadness staring up at the girl's picture. Hestia could've made it so much farther, but Azalea was alive in her place.

The second was Vulcan's. He came with an arrogant, cocky smile that Azalea wanted to wipe off his face, even if he was dead. She knew he was pretty much bossy and always angry, but he was still to be respected.

Ebony was next. Azalea noted that Roy Lentz looked back down at the grass as the blonde girl's face was revealed. She didn't know exactly what had happened between the two of them, but she would most likely never find out. Some secrets were better kept secrets.

Bay was fourth. Azalea knew that Clarence had killed the 17 year old, and her pang of sadness was replaced by anger, which was bubbling just beneath her surface. How would Clarence be so cruel as to slaughter his own ally? What had caused the 18 year old to do that?

Before the Sequins girl could dwell on that much longer, Bay's face was replaced by Rosemary's. Azalea never met Rosie personally, but she knew enough to know she was a good person. Rosie was allied with the biggest non-Career alliance, but she was the only one left. She wondered how that would feel, when everyone you cared about was taken away.

As the death count was concluding, Azalea was a mix of emotions. She was nervous and anxious for what would happen next. Would another battle begin to play out? Would the finale take place now? Azalea was too traumatized and downcast to deal with that right now. She just wanted to go to sleep, if that wasn't too much to ask for.

The remaining tributes eyed each other. It seemed as if everyone was tired out. Azalea definitely needed the energy. She had something to propose.

She stood up and strode over to the Cornucopia, where all attention would be on her. Azalea was only slightly nervous under the gazes of Lignite, Clarence, Roy, and Jayda. She was really done for, though. She couldn't take another battle. "How about this: We part ways for now, and we'll meet up again tomorrow. Until then, no physical contact with each other."

Azalea didn't think it would work, but she found that the four others were nodding their heads, agreeing with her. She smiled at her success and headed back to Lignite.

Lignite's head was down. "I don't want the finale to happen." He said softly. "I'm so tired, but I don't know how I'll sleep tonight."

Azalea squeezed his hand again. "Me, too. But we have to part ways for now. It's been an honor being your ally, Lignite Parker."

"You too, Azalea."

Quickly, Azalea stood on tiptoes and gave Lignite a quick kiss on the cheek. She then turned and flounced away from him, calling playfully over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow!"

She didn't look back again, but she knew he was smiling.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Hestia Gabbro: "** _ **I Do Not Want This"**_ **(sung by** _ **Nine Inch Nails)**_

 **Roy Lentz: "** _ **Survivor"**_ **(sung by** _ **Destiny's Child)**_

 **Clarence Reiss: "** _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by Taylor Swift)**

 **Azalea Sequins: "** _ **Happy"**_ **(sung by** _ **Pharrell Williams)**_

* * *

 _ **9th - Hestia Gabbro - D2F - I loved Hestia. She was something different that I've never seen before. Hestia could be kind but could be sour and I loved her for that. I feel bad for her about her dad, but maybe he'll realize how much he cared for his daughter now that he's dead. Hera, her sister, will give birth soon and maybe she'll name her daughter after the kind, courageous Hestia. We'll miss you…**_

* * *

 _ **8th - Ebony Williams - D4F - Ebony was literally amazing. She changed so much; first a ruthless Career but then she realized the true feeling of friendship. I'm so proud of her for learning how to love and how to be kind. She learned not to compare herself so much to her sister, and that she's her own person. Ebony Williams will live in our hearts forever, like Roy said.**_

* * *

 _ **7th - Rosemary "Rosie" Fields - Rosie was such a great character. She was so easy to write for, and she even managed to befriend Kinsie. Rosie is so generous and is willing to sacrifice herself to save her friends. Her friendship with Casey was so touching and I'm sad to see her go. We will miss our District Nine Female. Things won't be the same without her…**_

* * *

 _ **6th - Vulcan Hardy - Vulcan was awesome. His and Clarence's rivalry caused so much development in between. I'm sure most of you loved to hate him and hated to love him. Vulcan was so easy and funny to write and his rebel background made things a lot more interesting. Speaking of which, what do you think Lynn is up to now? Anyway, I know most of you disliked how he was a Reaped Career, but we will still miss him nevertheless…**_

* * *

 **Hi again! It's the final five! Who's excited for the finale? It'll be the chapter after the next. Our final five tributes are: Jayda, Clarence, Roy, Azalea, and Lignite. Who are you rooting for? Any death wishes?**

 **By the way, you should really read** _ **Every Soul A Star**_ **by** _ **Wendy Mass.**_ **If you haven't read it, you haven't lived. It's so, so good. Please read it and let me know what you thought of it! I might write another fanfiction about it, so stay tuned for that.**

 **Shoutout to** VeneratedArt **for the 400th review!  
** **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

 **Jayda Newell**

Hestia Gabbro

Vulcan Hardy

Ebony Williams

Bay Riverside

Eudora "Dora" Macintosh

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

Rosemary "Rosie" Fields

Casimir Moretti

Casey Taurus

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

Quince Lazarre

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

Isobel Wild

Delia Montgomery


	41. Chapter 41 - Day Seven Part One

**Chapter 41- Posted on ( 6/5/16)**

* * *

 **Lignite Parker**

 _ **District Twelve Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We all are living in a dream,  
But life ain't what it seems,**_

 _ **Oh everything's a mess,**_

 _ **And all these sorrows I have seen."**_

* * *

Lignite leaned against the tree and rubbed his gray-colored eyes tiredly. He had barely slept a wink the previous night, and even when he _did_ doze off, he usually woke up after five minutes. Finally, he had given up and simply stayed awake. Lignite's eyelids felt heavy, and his eyes were bloodshot. The only thing keeping him awake was stress.

He was stressed about everything. The Parker boy felt pressured to win, to make it farther in the Games, and to kill someone. That was what the Capitol expected. However, Lignite just felt like he couldn't. He felt like he wanted to give up, to lay down his weapon, and just have a normal life. But President Snow had changed the definition of 'normal', and that made Lignite want to scream in anger and frustration. His old life had been taken from him the moment Effie Trinket called his name at the Reapings.

Besides, if he had won, who would he go back home to? Lignite had no family, no friends, and no loved ones. There was no one he loved. There was no one who loved him. For all he cared, Azalea could have the crown. She deserved it much more than he did. She had plenty to live for. And as for Lignite...he would be a pretty disappointing Victor.

He had a major headache from staying awake all night, yet the clock was ticking closer and closer to rendezvous time. It was almost time to meet everyone for the final five finale. Lignite still couldn't believe he was in the Top Five, anyway. The speculation was much too unreal. If someone had told him that he would last a week in the arena, he wouldn't have believed them. He would bet his life that most people had singled him out to die early on. But here he was, still alive, and kicking.

 _But maybe not for long._ A quiet voice in the back of his head argued - his conscience. _You may be the next to die._

Lignite, uncomfortably, tried to push his doubts out of his head. It was impossible to do so. He had lived his whole 18 years filled with doubts and uncertainty, so why would it be easy to rid himself of atrocious thoughts now?

He turned his thoughts back then to Azalea. She was such a charming 16 year old, yet they both could end up dying in a matter of minutes. Dying, yes, but at least they were dying together. Lignite smiled sadly. His mother, father, and brother had died together in that dreadful fire. Now it would most likely be his turn.

A sudden voice, saying the words, "Come on!", made Lignite almost have a heart attack from horror. Was he hallucinating? No, he couldn't be. He was still in the arena, and he hadn't ate anything mysterious. In fact, Lignite hadn't been eating much at all. But the voice was seemingly so familiar, and it sounded exactly like Quince Lazarre.

A dark-skinned figure appeared in Lignite's line of vision. The angle of the figure's eyebrows, the smile of their lips, and smile wrinkles validated that this figure was Quince. But that was impossible. Quince had died, and by Jayda Newell's hands. Lignite was there himself. He had saw it with his own eyes…

He didn't trust himself to speak too much, but he gathered the courage enough to say, "Quince…?"

The Quince-looking person grinned. "Yep! It's me - as a mutt, though. How cool is that?" That rendered Lignite further confused. Quince was a mutt? And that was supposed to be cool? And why was Quince here in the first place? The thing that perplexed the 18 year old the most was that this was the pre-always angry Quince. Lignite had been so accustomed to the 'mean' version of the District Eleven Male that he had forgotten how he was before.

"Uh...what are you doing here?" Lignite ignored his own lack of politeness and social skills, instead deciding to focus on the task at hand. It was just too confusing, so he did have an excuse for not being polite. "I thought you were dead."

The Quince mutt snorted, sounding exactly like the old Quince. "I _am_ dead. Like I told you, I'm a mutt. I have to escort you to the Cornucopia for the showdown so that, you know, you don't get lost on your way. The Capitol is too restless to wait for wrong turns."

"Who's escorting Azalea?"

"Dylan, her District Partner."

Lignite immediately felt a pang of sadness. It must be really hard for Azalea to see her District Partner again. Dylan had died the second day. He hadn't deserved his death at all. He was too young, only a 13 year old boy. But then again, weren't they always too young to die? Even Quince himself, at 18 years old, was full of youth and innocence. Lignite would just leave it at: _The Capitol is cruel._ He was a man of few words.

He got up and followed Quince. Quince was yakking it up a mile a minute but Lignite was only half-listening. He was nodding to show he was paying attention, but his heart wasn't in it. The Parker focused on watching the back of his former ally's head. This is where it would all end. The Cornucopia, which had seemed like a safe haven of sorts before, now seemed like a death scene. In a way, it was. A total of eleven tributes, grouped together from the Bloodbath and the Feast, have died there already. Who didn't say that there would be more?

Within what felt like a few seconds, Lignite was once again stepping foot into the clearing he was in just a few hours ago. He heaved a huge sigh and glanced around. No one else was there yet. That gave him plenty of time to plan his tactics.

He turned back to Quince. "So, how long are you staying here?"

Quince shrugged. "I'm going back once the Feast begins."

Lignite nodded once more, saddened by the fact that he wouldn't be seeing Quince afterwards. In the short minutes they had taken to get to the location where the Feast would take place, the Lazarre had managed to regain his trust. If Lignite died, maybe he could see his friend in heaven. _If_ he went to heaven, that was.

A familiar female voice snapped him back to reality. "Lignite! Hey, Lignite!" Azalea bounded over to her ally with the Dylan mutt hot on her heels. She had a twinkle in her otherwise dark-colored eyes. "Dylan got to escort me here and we talked about everything and -" She stopped abruptly once she caught sight of Quince.

Quince stepped forward. "I'm sorry about before." He apologized to Azalea. "But maybe we can put that behind us and continue being friends."

Azalea looked uncertain still, but agreed. "Sure." Then she turned to Lignite. "Did he escort you here?"

"Yeah."

The old alliance, plus Dylan, reunited and began talking at all once. The three listened to Dylan's story of dying, which saddened them. It seemed as if Casey was trying to save his life but failed. When Dylan asked if any of his alliance was still alive, Lignite and Azalea shook their heads sadly. The Tweed mutt didn't talk much after that. He must've been pondering how they died.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lignite stopped Clarence and Roy arriving. Roy was walking with someone who strangely looked like Kinsie, and Clarence was strolling in with Vulcan, which he didn't look too happy about. The only person who had yet to arrive was Jayda. That meant that Quince and Dylan didn't have a lot of time left to reunite. The only living female Career girl could arrive at any minute, at this point.

Looking at Azalea now, Lignite began to get cold feet. In addition to that, a chill travelled down his spine. If he truly wanted to make it back home, that meant killing her, but he didn't know if he could. She was the second - and maybe last - girl he had ever loved romantically, the first being Cleo. Living meant letting go of one's past. Would he have the courage, the bravery, and the strength to let go of Azalea?

 _I have to._ He decided. _If it means being safe forever - back in District Twelve. Maybe everyone will start to like me again, instead of avoiding me like the plague. I could be happy._

Suddenly, a girl with blonde hair walks into the clearing, talking with a Hestia mutt. Jayda had arrived - the Final Five was officially about to begin. Quince and Dylan stepped backwards and gave a quick wave, before disappearing with a quiet _poof._

Azalea scoffed. "I wish _we_ could do that. To get out of this mess." But Lignite knew that her main emotion wasn't annoyance. It was mixed in with fear, anxiousness, and sorrow.

Lignite decided that it was better not to answer her question, instead opting to look around at the competition. Jayda was unsheathing her dual blades. Clarence seemed deep in thought, formulating a plan to win. Roy was twirling a knife between his fingers.

Since their mutt escorts were gone, it meant that the third Bloodbath was officially beginning. No one made a move to kill. The tension in the air was too thick, and Lignite found it hard to breathe, because of the nerves. All five tributes glared daggers at each other, wondering who would make the first move.

Clarence flashed them an intimidating look, which snapped Lignite back to reality. He looked at Azalea. They had gotten to know each other so well during the past few days they have been in the arena, and they could read each other's emotions. Azalea immediately understood that the look on his face was saying, _target Clarence. He's the most dangerous threat, and we have to take him out before he can kill us all - probably with only one slash of his sword - and win._

Roy was eyeing them suspiciously, but didn't bother throw a knife. Lignite noticed that the District Five Male only had a few knives left to throw. That gave the others an upper hand - Roy would have to strategize perfectly so he didn't end up weaponless in the middle of battle.

Jayda soon broke the silence. "Well, what are we waiting for?" She asked, to no one in particular. And without giving them a chance to respond, she ran at full speed towards Clarence, a savage demeanor clearly demonstrated. Clarence was expecting the attack, though. He whirled around and countered with his sword, determination in his eyes. Azalea and Lignite looked at each other again, with a silent countdown of _3, 2, 1._

Then they charged at the Reiss.

They didn't anticipate Clarence's skills to be so acute. Even as he was fighting Jayda, he seemed to see the alliance in his peripheral vision, and he grabbed a knife from a sheath and dangerously attempted to stab them. Azalea and Lignite jumped back, panting heavily. Clarence seemed almost, well, _superhuman_. But Lignite could guess that, that was what you turned out to be after years and years of training.

He backed up, sweat beading on his forehead. Going against Clarence was no easy feat. At least he hadn't hit them. The knife had missed about a fraction of an inch - that much closer, and they would've been dead meat. This wasn't going according to plan.

Maybe the strategy itself wasn't a good idea.

Azalea seemed to have the same thoughts. She pulled Lignite father away. "Let's just hang back, see if there's an opening somewhere." She whispered, so only the two of them could hear. He nodded in agreement, reaching his arm up to his forehead to wipe away the perspiration. Of course, it wasn't sweat that caused that.

They watched the display with interest, and when the _boom_ came, they were wondering how one managed to defeat the other. They were both strong Careers, but only one had came out as the winner of the quarrel, and it was just altogether surprising.

* * *

 **Jayda Newell**

 _ **District One Female. 17 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **You're hot and you're cold,**_

 _ **you're yes and you're no**_

 _ **You're in and you're out,**_

 _ **You're up and you're down."**_

* * *

Jayda gritted her teeth and swung one of her dual blades right at Clarence's neck. If it did hit, then she would've killed her District Partner. But the key word was _if._ Her attempt had failed - _again_ \- and the sword was just met by Clarence's weapon, with a _clang._

Clarence met her narrowed-eyed stare and let out a _tsk, tsk._ "If only you trained harder."

Jayda didn't answer. She was too focused on the battle to cook up some snarky reply. Instead she zeroed in on Clarence's stomach, and slashed her sword in that direction, but it was again countered. If she wasn't caught up in the intense battle, she would let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. Alas, she _was_ caught up in the battle, so she didn't.

She twirled and twisted, locked in a dangerous dance. Clarence seemed to be going on defense rather than offense, and concentrated on blocking attacks than sending them. When Jayda paused for a few seconds, to catch her breath, he kneed her in the stomach, which caught her off guard and stumbling on the ground.

He leaned down, so his face was hovering just above hers. "Any last words?" Jayda resisted the urge to cough and gag; there was no way one could brush their teeth in the arena, so Clarence's breath smelled pretty bad. She couldn't hold it guilty against him, of course - she was sure hers smelled exactly the same.

Jayda didn't want to think about biofilm, though. She instead pinpointed looking for an escape. A moment later, she saw one. Rolling out of the way right before Clarence brought his weapon down, she sprang to her feet and danced away. Seeing Clarence's vulnerable back, Jayda took a running leap, and tackled him.

He crumpled to the ground easily, and she was so sure she heard his wrist crack from the impact; broken. Clarence's expression was twisted in pain, and he hissed from the feeling, but he wasn't going down that easily. Clarence struggled to regain his footing and Jayda was still on the floor by the time he was up. He raised his sword over his head once more, and prepared to swing it down. "Any last words _now?"_ He asked, clearly done with her.

Jayda tried to roll out of the way - the very move that saved her life last time - but it seemed as if her luck had ran out entirely. Everything came in slow motion, and the sword came down gradually, seemingly laughing at her. Jayda felt like _everything_ was laughing at her, and even Clarence was chuckling evilly. Of course, with everything being in slow motion, _she_ was in slow motion as well. Jayda's head swam with memories as her life flashed right before her very eyes: first enrolling in the Training Center back home in District One. Laughing with Jasmine about things that weren't even funny, but seemed funny to them at the time. Having mood swings, and being the laughingstock of her school. Volunteering and becoming the District One Female. Experiencing the Capitol.

And never coming back to her home.

Jayda didn't see anything at all, as soon as the sword impaled her. The only thing that she could see was darkness, for miles and miles. No beacon of light. There was nothing to light her way.

The arena seemed so bright compared to this. Everything she had never known was gone, and she was alone.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Lignite Parker: "** _ **Dream"**_ **(sung by** _ **Imagine Dragons)**_

 **Jayda Newell:** " _ **Hot 'N' Cold"**_ **(sung by** _ **Katy Perry)**_

* * *

 _ **5th - Jayda Newell - D1F - Jayda was an amazing character. You wouldn't even imagine how overjoyed I was when I got her. She was a true Career through and through, but something singled her out: her mood swings. I'm sorry I wasn't able to put more mood swings in, but it was hard to add small things like that with the plot moving and all. She was amazing, and thank you so much,**_ _flowersnowgirl,_ _ **for submitting her to me. She will be forever in my memory.**_

* * *

 **Hello again! I'm sorry that this was a relatively short chapter but I really want to get done with the arena, and the whole story, because I just posted a new SYOT: "The Home of the Brave". You may or may not have noticed it yet, but I'm truly excited to get that on the road. Go ahead and submit if you want after you're done here. I'm probably going to finish this SYOT first before continuing that but I promise it'll only be but a short wait. I'm only accepting one tribute per person as of now but I'll open it up to two if I don't get enough submissions otherwise.**

 **So, final four! Sorry if I didn't make Jayda's death detailed enough but this chapter was kind of hard to write for me. Any predictions on Victor now?**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **Clarence Reiss**

Jayda Newell

Hestia Gabbro

Vulcan Hardy

Ebony Williams

Bay Riverside

Eudora "Dora" Macintosh

Huxley Cathode

Kinsie Surge

Dylan Tweed

Rosemary "Rosie" Fields

Casimir Moretti

Casey Taurus

 **Roy Lentz**

Zoe Mercedes

Louis Lindbergh

Celine Woodman

Rowan Mattock

 **Azalea Sequins**

Quince Lazarre

 **Lignite Parker**

Taurus Whittaker

Isobel Wild

Delia Montgomery


	42. Chapter 42 - Finale

**Chapter 42 - Posted on ( 6/6/16)**

* * *

 **Azalea Sequins**

 _ **District Eight Female. 16 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **Because I'm happy,**_

 _ **Clap along if you feel**_

 _ **Like a room without**_

 _ **A roof."**_

* * *

Azalea pressed her hands to her mouth as Clarence stood over Jayda's dead body. _That was his District Partner he just killed._ She could never imagine herself killing Dylan for anything; not even the Victor's crown. But Clarence's expression showed no remorse. In fact, he was emotionless. _So he's a cold blooded killer._ She thought in disgust. Clarence might've been the Capitol's most wanted choice, as of now, for a Victor but she had personally seen his true colors. She wanted him dead.

Lignite, beside her, was having a different reaction of sorts. He was beginning to tremble and shake. Azalea turned to him. "Hey, are you okay? You look-" She cut herself off short once she inspected her ally closer. His eyes had dimmed and his usually bright gray eyes orb had a stormy vibe to them. His hands were shaking, though he showed no sign of physical or emotional injury. He looked like he was driving himself _mad._

She took a step back out of fear and horror. Lignite had never acted like this before. What if he tried to murder her? What if he committed suicide and killed _himself?_ What if he did all of the above?  
Oblivious to Azalea's horror, Lignite went into a screaming fit. "Fire!" He shouted, pointing shakily at something. "Fire!"

Azalea followed where his finger was pointing, but Lignite was just pointing at the forest surrounding the Cornucopia clearing they were standing in. She shook her head. He wasn't making much sense right now. "There's no fire. What are you talking about?"

Lignite began to mutter incoherently. She only caught a few words: _family, house, burning, glass, flames,_ and, as she already guessed, _fire._ She shook her head again, to clear her mind. What on Earth was he talking about? He definitely was going mental.

He began to scream and screech about fire again in a shrill voice. Roy hung back, looking wary. Even Clarence kept his distance. No one knew what was happening to Lignite.

Azalea watched helplessly as Lignite, though deranged as ever, bent down and picked up one of the rocks that were littering the ground. The rock was fairly moderate in size, but it was a heavy thing. It must've weighed at least a few pounds. She didn't know what he had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Azalea spoke up once more as a last resort. "Uh, I'm not sure if that's a good idea." She warned cautiously, but before she could get another word in, Lignite chucked the rock. It landed dangerously close to where Clarence was standing. It was a few feet away from the District One Male, but Clarence must've been thinking that Lignite had been aiming for him.

"Watch it!" Clarence yelled out angrily. He sidestepped another rock, yet again thrown via the District Twelve Male. "I'll get you for this!"

Azalea looked at the incident with fearful eyes. Clarence was trying to get closer to Lignite, at least close enough where he could swing his sword and kill him, but was having no luck. Though Lignite was probably not intentionally aiming for the other 18 year old, rocks were showering down on him. Lignite's cycle was: get a rock, throw it, repeat. Clarence narrowly steered clear of the ores, and one got him on the upper arm, but it made him more angry rather than hurt.

Roy, like the Sequins girl, was standing helplessly and watching the display. She could tell that he wanted to break up the fight somehow, but didn't interfere in fear of being killed. Azalea knew that because she was thinking the exact same thing. Even if she and Lignite were allies - and dare she say unofficial girlfriend and boyfriend - he might not recognize her in his unbalanced state of mind. The only thing she could do was wish that Lignite wouldn't get hurt. Especially not by Clarence's hands.

Speaking of Clarence, he was perilously closer and closer to where Lignite was standing. The Reiss was rhythmic and graceful in his own way, dodging each rock that was flung at him. Though how entrancing Clarence's 'dance' was, Azalea resented him for being so good. She crossed her fingers behind her back and tried to telepathically will Lignite to remain safe in the crisis. _Lignite, we promised that we would be the last two. Don't die on me! If you do, I don't know what I'll do._ Needless to say, it probably didn't work. All Lignite did was pick up another rock and throw it again.

Azalea studied the ground and began to panic. Lignite was running out of rocks. There was an average-sized pile by his feet, but would it be enough to fend off someone? To be more specific, would it be enough to fend off the talented and mighty Clarence Reiss? She doubted it, as much as she wanted to believe otherwise. She herself would need a truckload of rocks, or maybe even a mountain, to defeat him. But Lignite was not her. Maybe he still had a chance - a small one, but that still counted as a chance.

She watched, entranced, as her ally launched the next rock into the air. Azalea was snapped out of the routine and frowned as soon as it shot past Clarence's head and went farther. Clarence got lucky this time. This one wouldn't hit him. But her eyebrows knit further once she realized where it would make its mark - _right on Roy's head._

Her dark-colored eyes widened but she couldn't stop the assault from descending as it arced up higher in the air. It flew gracefully through the sky almost in the formation of a rainbow, and but Azalea wasn't entranced by the beautifulness - and sadness - that the rock held this time. She was too occupied by yelling out, "Roy, _move!"_

And she was on her feet and sprinting. Azalea launched herself across the Cornucopia clearing so fast that, as she was running, everything was just a blur whizzing past. But before she even reached the spot where Roy once stood, she knew it was too late. _She_ was too late.

Roy was on the ground, moaning, and clutching his head. Azalea dropped to the ground next to him in horror and inspected the wound closely. It was a horrifying sight. Blood seeped out of the huge indent the rock had made. It was definitely fatal - Roy Lentz was a goner.

She just couldn't believe that Lignite was the one who killed him.

Azalea didn't do anything, but simply cradled Roy's head on her lap. She softly began to whisper to him, not caring that rocks were still flying everywhere, Lignite was still screaming about fire, and Clarence was yelling out insults to her ally.  
"You went down bravely." She told him. "You were great."

Roy moaned in pain, but managed to get out, "No, I didn't. I just got beaned in the head by a rock. That's not brave, or great."

"Come on, now. You've placed 4th. I'd say that's a pretty great spot."

Roy didn't respond verbally. He mouthed a quick thank you and closed his eyes. Azalea put her hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, through his shirt and jacket. He must've been so scared. She knew she would have been crying and screaming out in pain right now if that had happened to her.

Roy was so much more courageous than she was, in many different ways.

Abruptly. Azalea could feel his heartbeat no longer. A cannon boomed far off in the distance, but she pushed his dead body away. He had just died in her arms.

Azalea Sequins had experienced death firsthand.

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

With a jolt, Clarence realized that someone just died once a cannon rippled through the noise of the fighting. That could mean only one thing: He was in the final three.

He, of course, knew he and Lignite were still alive. But what about the third person? Did Azalea make it, or did Roy? The person who made it would determine _everything._

Clarence glanced briefly to his left, where he saw Roy and Azalea earlier. Azalea was standing up, shock written all over her face, and Roy was on the ground, unmoving. He clucked his tongue under his breath. That meant Roy's cannon was the one that boomed.

"Flames...family...hurt…" Lignite threw one rock for each word; three more rocks in total. Clarence swivelled around the trio of flying rocks, and was lucky enough to make it closer to Lignite. One foot closer, and Lignite would be a sword-length away; that meant Clarence would swing his sword and kill him.

Azalea seemed to be snapped out of her reverie once she saw that Clarence was getting closer and closer to Lignite. "No, Lignite!" She cried out, fear for her friend evident in her voice. "Run away!"

It was no use. Lignite seemed to be in some kind of trance, or off in his own little world. He couldn't hear Azalea's pleas; or if he did, he didn't give any acknowledgement. He just continued to chuck pieces of the earth through the air.

"Not now! Please!" She shouted, and tried to run closer to her ally. Lignite's unfocused gray eyes found hers for a moment, and he said, "...Azalea?" But soon after that, his orbs glazed over again, and he seemingly had forgotten about what he just saw: his friend and a foe.

Azalea looked back at Clarence helplessly, and he found himself taking pity for the girl. She had lost so much - Quince and now Lignite. Clarence had lost basically nothing. She needed comfort, and help.

 _Wait, what am I thinking?_ He cried out in his brain. _That's not what a Career thinks! We have to be strong, brave, and powerful. We don't care for helpless 16 year old girls who are on the verge of crying!_

"Clarence?"

Azalea's voice snapped him back to reality, and out of his brain. He shook himself out of his clashing thoughts and focused his eyes on Azalea's. She took in a deep breath, and gestured to Lignite. "How do you think we should stop him?"  
Clarence's brain felt fuzzy from his opposing thoughts - she actually said _we_ \- but he answered her anyway. "Only one way to do that. Put him out of his misery."

Azalea seemed to put two-an-two together. "You mean _kill_ him!"

"I mean, yeah. What else would it mean?"

"I can't do that! You're insane!"

Clarence rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to respond with a snarky comment. He said in a slow voice, as if explaining something to a little kid, "Look. If you happen to get Lignite back onto your alliance somehow, he's still going to be a crazy, rocking-throwing person. Would you want that?"

Azalea shook her head reluctantly. "Well, when you put it that way…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned, trying to solve her dilemma. On one hand, she could kill Lignite, but that meant Clarence was with her in the Final Two. And she seriously doubted that she could take on Clarence. But if she didn't, Lignite would be on the verge of driving himself mad. Maybe he already did. But still, she decided that the best option would be to put him out of his misery, like the District One Male so helpfully suggested.

She sighed heavily. Her sigh was full of guilt, and emotional pain. "Fine. if I'm going to make it home, this is the first step of the way."

Clarence found himself pitying her again, though he tried to push the unfamiliar emotion away to the back of his brain again. _I can't do that, remember?_ He chided himself mentally.

Azalea quickly dodged all the rocks, as if it was nothing, but Clarence supposed it was just beginner's luck. She walked towards Lignite with guilt and regretfulness in her usually warm, dark brown eyes. She spoke softly to him, but Clarence could still hear every word she said.

"Lignite, I want you to be happy. I want you to move on. I'm _really_ sorry. I promise you'll live in my heart forever." Azalea's voice sounded choked up, and the 18 year old suspected that she was crying. "You're one of the first friends that I've ever had, and again, I'm really sorry about this."

Clarence found himself unable to look at what was about to happen. He turned away and the last thing he saw from the scene was Azalea raising her stiletto knife over her head. Once the cannon boomed, he allowed himself a small peek. It appeared that Azalea had stabbed Lignite in the chest.

 _He is gone - but now it's Final Two._

He grabbed his sword by the hilt and gripped it tightly. This was the moment he'd been waiting for all of his 18 years - the moment where he was going to win the Games. Clarence knew, deep down, that he had the fire and passion to do it. Azalea might've been somewhat experienced with her weapon, but Clarence had been training since he learned how to hold a sword properly. _I can do this._

Azalea stood up, and Clarence could see that there was a torrent of tears flooding down her face. He bit back a few tears himself; he didn't even know why. Seeing this girl in pain somehow made him want to share this emotions, even though they had only encountered once in the arena before; when he and Jayda stumbled across Quince, Lignite, and herself.

He had been intending to speak up, but he found himself whispering gingerly, "So, this is it."

She inclined her head at him and took her time to find the correct words to respond with. "Yes. I suppose it is." They eyed each other suspiciously.

"If the worst happens and I die, I'm not going down without a fight."

"Same."

And they charged. Azalea made the first move, veering to aim at his arm. She attempted to stab at it with her knife, but Clarence danced away from the attack. _Amaetaur._ In turn he feinted right but at last moment twisted his weapon to the left, bringing the sword down on her forearm. She cried out and clutched her am in pain. However, that was just him getting started. "I'm just getting warmed up, Azalea," He warned her in a threatening voice.

And it was true. The next time she dove in for another try at stabbing him, he parried and kneed her in the stomach in the process. Azalea cried out once more and doubled over, her breathing ragged. She dropped her dagger on the ground next to her in the process.

Clarence saw the opening straight away, after many sessions of strategy training back in District One. His sword seemed to have a mind of its own as he dug it right into her back mercilessly, feeling no remorse.

It should've killed her, but instead it only succeeded in making Azalea angier, more determined - and a bit slower, too. She bent over to pick up her knife again, but immediately straightened and winced in pain. Clarence could only imagine that the sharp blade was digging into her back, and gave a little shiver besides himself. He wouldn't want to experience that himself.

Azalea seemingly beared through the pain and bent over again to pick up the knife. She snatched it quickly from the ground this time, so the pain from the sword wouldn't register. Azalea succeeded. She launched herself at him for a third time, a new kind of fury in her eyes.

Clarence tried to draw his backup weapon, his knife, from its sheath but was too slow. Azalea stabbed him in the stomach with her weapon, digging it in deep and twisting it a little for good measure. Clarence gasped, but refused to scream; that would go against his pride. His ego as a Career would be ruined. She yanked it out quickly, and he was quickly dizzied by the sight of his own blood coating the fine instrument. His own blood started spilling out of the wound and dripping onto the ground. He felt like his stomach was on fire. He had never felt this kind of pain before.

Fighting back with renewed energy despite his injured state, Clarence grabbed his knife in one swift movement and stabbed Azalea multiple times in the chest. He didn't stab deep, but he did do it a handful of times.

They both staggered back, tired out. Could the Victor be Azalea Sequins, who had multiple wounds on her chest which were all spilling blood, including Clarence's sword dug deep into her back? Or could it be the handsome, strong, and mighty Clarence Reiss, who had a deep, severe stomach injury that disabled him from moving too far without clutching it in pain?

The two last remaining tributes locked eyes and stared at each other. Azalea spoke up for the first time in what seemed like forever. "You should know what Casey told me. Right before she died."

Clarence asked her, interrupting Azalea's train of thought, "You killed Casey?" He remembered, clearly, the night he saw Casey's face in the midnight sky. Her face had been as bright as any star. Somehow, he couldn't imagine Azalea killing anyone. Well, sure, she had killed Lignite, but it was a bit of a mercy-kill.

Azalea shook her head, clearly deep in thought. "Quince did. My former ally." She continued on with her original thought, not bothering to dig in deeper with that Quince had done. "She told me the words ' _Eagle_ '. Not sure what it was, but it seemed important."

Clarence shrugged. Probably meant nothing, for all he knew. "Why are you telling me this?"

Her eyes took on a glazed-over look. "I might not have much time left." With a shock, he realized it was true. They were both losing a lot of blood, Azalea losing even more from the sword wound and the knife wounds. Clarence sighed heavily. In all his years, this was not how he expected his possible victory to turn out.

They were silent for a few moments, just thinking. Well, Clarence didn't know what was going on inside of Azalea's head, but he knew she was probably doing the same. They continued to lock eyes, but Azalea broke the gaze and turned away, feigning interest in the grass.

He realized that each breath they both drew became more shallower. Lack of oxygen, maybe? It was getting harder and harder to breathe, from the blood loss. Clarence struggled to gulp in a few deep breaths. Beside him, Azalea was doing the same. They were both in a race against themselves, and against time, to see who would outlast each other.

They didn't expect the shy, timid 16 year old from District Eight to make it this far.

Nor did they expect the District One Male to be so high-ranking, with so many kills.

Clarence distracted himself from the pain by trying to think of how his mother was feeling right now. Nope, his father probably didn't care about his well-being, but India Reiss was a kind, caring woman who wouldn't hesitate to do anything for her only son. Was her heart beating so fast she felt like it was going to jump out of her chest? Was she nervous and watching with tear-filled eyes?

The abrupt boom of the cannon confirmed the Victor of the Games. One had outlasted the other - it was just a matter of time, after all. The watchers back in the Districts and in the Capitol would all be pressing their hands to their mouth in shock and surprise, but a particular family would be jumping with glee and joy, knowing their child was coming back home.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your Victor for the 76th Annual Hunger Games: the District One Male, Clarence Reiss!"

And Clarence's knees buckled, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he crumpled to the ground, joining Azalea's dead body in the blood-stained grass.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Azalea Sequins: "** _ **Happy"**_ **(sung by** _ **Pharrell Williams)**_

 **Clarence Reiss: "** _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by Taylor Swift)**

* * *

 _ **4th - Roy Lentz - D5M - Roy was a particular favorite of mine. He, alongside Ebony, learned many lessons together and he discovered he wasn't just a person who melted into the shadows. He could be a good friend. To the submitter**_ _WizardDemigodGladerGatekeeper_ _ **, if you're reading this: You were one of the many inspirations that made me post this SYOT in the first place, and if it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't be here! I hope you're satisfied with 4th and I thank you so much for submitting one of the most fun characters ever to write for. You, and Roy, are both amazing.**_

* * *

 _ **3rd - Lignite Parker - D12M - Lignite was also another favorite of mine. He was such an intriguing, and mysterious, tribute. His whole "family dying in a fire" backstory was what really got me. To clear things up if you didn't understand, Lignite suddenly went into flashback mode and drove himself crazy by thinking about his family dying, and that made him throw rocks in 'self-defense' at the 'flames'. Still, third is a great spot. We'll miss you, Lignite...**_

* * *

 _ **2nd - Azalea Sequins - D8F - First of all, I loved Azalea right from the start. She had an interesting backstory and had so much room for development: finding her inner self and realizing that she could start over. She was a great character, and she was a thrill to write for, and she was so amazing. At one point I was juggling with the idea of her being Victor, but I decided to go with Clarence instead for reasons you will find out. In all, what I really want to say is that no matter how bad you do, you can always turn over a new lead a start anew. At least, that's what Azalea taught me.**_

* * *

 _ **Victor - Clarence Reiss - D1M**_

 _ **Clarence was one of the best tributes I've ever received, OMG :) Not to mention that he was my FIRST tribute ever, too. I always felt some kind of attachment to him and I think he's a pretty likable character. The reason I decided to let him be Victor, and not Azalea, was that I don't think that anyway could ever beat Clarence in a battle, because he's amazing :D Also, to clarify, at the end he just fainted from blood loss. He didn't die. Congratulations on your first Victor,**_ _dreams and desperation_ _ **! I'm so glad that you have submitted him, and I hope everything's pleased with my chosen Victor. I know I am.**_

* * *

 **So, this chapter concludes the Games in total. Also, happy 4-month-anniversary to "A Spell Broken"! It's such a coincidence that I made this story on March 6th and the Games have ended on June 6th. The rest of the story will continue on with the aftermath, so keep reading for that.**

 **At the end Clarence simply fainted from the blood loss, but he didn't die, so don't worry.**

 **Anything you think may happen next? Are you happy about the Victor?**

 **Don't forget to submit to my new SYOT, if you haven't.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	43. Chapter 43 - A Rising Rebellion

**Chapter 43 - Posted on ( 6/8/16)**

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

"Sir, _sir!_ Can you hear me?"

Clarence's brain felt fuzzy, like he had a major migraine. He was disoriented. The annoying voice that kept twittering around, apparently calling him a _sir,_ wasn't helping. Since when was there an annoying voice in the arena? He didn't recognize it as any of the tribute's voices.

He sat up, for the first time realizing he was in a bed. Once he sat up, he felt even more dizzy, as if he was going to throw up. But it wouldn't look very good if he threw up, now would it?

His eyes widened with realization as he put the scattered pieces of the puzzle together, even through his mind-shattering headache. _I'm in a bed. A strange, somewhat impatient voice that doesn't ring a bell is calling me a sir. That must mean...I'm Victor._

He didn't react as he would expect himself to. The Pre-Victor Clarence would've whooped, cheered, made a huge deal out of the whole situation. But no longer was he the Pre-Victor Clarence, but had the identity of the Victor Clarence. He was shocked by his own behavior, but it didn't exactly surprise him. He just sat there. Hollow. Numb.

For the record, he wasn't feeling that good right now. In fact, he was woozy and didn't want to talk to the person calling him a _sir._ He just wanted time to himself. To think, to prepare, and get adjusted to this new life. The new life that he didn't feel like belonged to him. It was all too disturbing and uncomfortable.

Someone else should've been living in his place. Not Clarence.

On the bright side, now every girl would be swooning over him, right? He would work at the Training Center, and have everything he ever wanted at the touch of his fingertips. It was the life of a Victor, the one he was destined to live. But these facts did little to comfort him. He already missed Jayda, Hestia, Vulcan, - not so much, but still - Bay, and Ebony. His companions on the journey.

His vision cleared somewhat, and he could make out a middle-aged woman leaning over him, clipboard in hand, her eyes urgent and fearful. She relaxed back when he looked at her in confusion. "He's up." She called over her shoulder to someone, a paramedic most likely.

Clarence shook his head. "I'm sorry, but who _are_ you? Where am I?"

The woman was clearly a Capitolite. She had blue-dyed hair that was in beautiful waves, reaching down to her shoulders. Her eyes were probably surgically modified; they were a beautiful, though artificial, color of silver that was impossible to get through birth. She stood, and rocked back on forth on her heels. "My name's Maya. You just made it through the Games," She consulted her clipboard. "Clarence Reiss. We're in a hovercraft, going back to the Capitol."

She chuckled. "For a moment, we thought you'd lose you there. You were pale as a sheet, like you just saw a ghost. You were also out cold. Must've been the blood loss."

 _Blood loss?_ Clarence wondered. He looked down, and realized that this stomach was patched up heavily. _Must've been from the Final Two fight - with Azalea._ He looked back up, and made eye contact with the girl. "When am I going home?" Clarence knew he was asking a lot of questions, but questions were what got you answers. Besides, he wanted to see his loving, kind mother again. He missed her a lot - more than he thought he would. He guessed he just took advantage of her before, then…

"Maybe in a few days. There's a lot to do. The crowning, the interview, and watching your arena video. Then the Victory Tour is coming up in a few months, so that'll keep you up and on your toes."

They were silent for a few more moments, but he could faintly make out the pilot barking out in the distance, "Five minutes until descending."

Maya straightened. "I guess that's my cue to go." She smiled at Clarence and started to walk off. Clarence called out, "Thanks, ma'am."

He didn't even realize he knew the word _ma'am._ He had never called someone that before. But he had to step up his game, being Victor and all. That included being polite, right? But even if it wasn't included in the whole winning package, he'd have to start sometime, so why not now?

As she hurried away, Maya called over her shoulder, "Thanks!" Then she disappeared in a crowd of other paramedics. Even with her wild, blue-dyed hair, the Capitolites all had crazy-colored hair, so he couldn't locate her anymore. He had lost her in a sea of people. Clarence wondered if he would ever see her again.

Sitting up, he realized that a window was right next to him. He pressed his hands against the glass, fogging it up with his breathing. Their hovercraft was flying right above the arena. He smiled grimly as he recognized some placed as where he and his alliance had camped out. Some places had dead mutt bodies lying on them, and he was intrigued by that fact. Others had blood splattering the otherwise perfectly fine green grass. All of the scenery came together in one, big Hunger Games.

Clarence couldn't believe that, just minutes before, he had been in the arena that they were flying over. He had been fighting for his life, and for his family. He realized that, gone were the bodies from the arena. Hovercrafts must have picked them up sometime. He may have been rotting in a box, ready to be sent back to his family for the burial, if he hadn't survived the intense Final Two fight with Azalea. But he wasn't, and that just proved he was a strong, courageous young man who defended his life more than once.

He distracted himself from his mind-numbing migraines by looking out the window once more and reminiscing about his experiences, some good, but most bad. He had killed 5 people. Right here. However, he tried to forget about it for now.

He would have years to think about it some other time.

* * *

The moment Clarence got out of the hospital room, where he had been ushered to right after he managed to get off the hovercraft, he knew something was fishy.

He was brought to yet another hospital room afterwards, by a Capitol man, but he was ultimately perplexed. Primrose Everdeen, that District Twelve Victor was there, and so were a few others he recognized. But no Cashmere, nor Gloss. Weren't they supposed to congratulate him from coming out alive? Shouldn't they be jumping for joy and glee by now, knowing that District One had yet another Victor? Clarence looked left and right, but they were nowhere in sight. Weird.

For the first time, he noticed someone was lying in the hospital bed. It was the brown-haired 17 year old mentor that he recognized as Lynx Maybelle, the District Ten Victor from the 75th Hunger Games. He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What could this mean, then? Lynx's eyes were closed tightly, and she looked like she had no intent of waking up sooner or later.

"It's a coma." A weary voice spoke up for the first time since he had entered the room. The voice belonged to Prim. She apparently had noticed Clarence looking at the 17 year old in confusion, and had jumped to explain. "She's been in it the day of the interviews."

Clarence noticed for the first time again, that all the mentors looked absolutely miserable; they had dark circles under their eyes and their hair looked like they hadn't been combed since years ago. Even Finnick Odair, who he thought was supposed to be some kind of Panem icon, looked terrible. _If only Finnick's fans could see him like this._ Clarence thought giddily at the weird statement, a smile coming upon his face. But the smile was immediately dropped. It was no time to smile, at least not right now. Something serious had happened, and he wanted to get to the bottom of the problem.

Beetee spoke up next, his voice hoarse. "Welcome to the Victor Club." The older man winced as he said the words, and if he didn't want to be reminded that he himself was a Victor. Clarence shrugged. "I guess I'm the newest member."

Everyone nodded. Clarence knew what was on everybody's minds, even though all they said so far were three sentences. It was this: _I wonder who will win next year._ It was true. Clarence was wondering if he'd bring a District One tribute home, or would it possibly be an outlying District tribute? He couldn't predict the future, but one thing was certain; the Capitol _would_ have next year's Victor. The Hunger Games, after 76 years, were still going strong. It had no reason to stop in between.

They were silent for a few more moments, but Enobaria eventually broke the silence. "You may be wondering why the Victor pool looks a lot more empty than it usually is right now. Like we're missing a few people." The District Two mentor then proceeded to look at Prim, as if asking for confirmation that she could say whatever she was going to say. When Prim nodded, Enobaria continued. Clarence found himself leaning forward in anticipation for the woman's next words; he wanted to know what happened to his mentors.

"We're not absolutely certain, but we can conclude that they were captured by President Snow two days ago. We don't know how or why, but we do know that they were." Enobaria gave him a wry smile in return. "And it's up to us to create a rebellion to get them back."

* * *

The room was immediately thrown into chaotic action. Even though most of the Victors had been lounging on the chairs, tables, and every open spot possible in the tiny hospital room, they sprang into action right as orders past Prim's lips. Clarence was guessing Primrose was the leader, then; it seemed pretty ridiculous to be taking orders from a 14 year old, and he was 4 years older than her, but he would just have to learn to respect her. After all, saving his mentors, and Johanna and Seeder, was going to be worth it.

Wiress, a woman who was worn by age, stepped up to him to explain everything. She was from District Three, and was old, so if she had lived back in District One Clarence's wouldn't even have gave her one glance. But alas, he wasn't in District One anymore. He was in the Capitol, as Victor Clarence. He would just have to deal with it. He did have a hard time focusing on Wiress, though.

"President Snow has been taking _everything_ away from us the moments we have left the arena." This sentence that Wiress stated, so simply, made Clarence shiver despite himself. He certainly didn't feel like he was being stripped of a regular life right now, but would be feel the same way as Wiress did when he was older and wiser? "I think all of us Victors have a sort of pent-up rage at him. This is the last straw. We _can't_ let him take away the people we care about. Not Cashmere, not Haymitch, not Gloss, not Johanna, and not Seeder. We need everyone.

"We were glad that you came out to be the Victor. We need strong forces on our team. Well, that is, if you do choose to be in the rebellion." Wiress eyed him suspiciously. "We need all the help we can get."

Clarence was confused as to what choice he should pick. He had lived his whole - well, until now, at least - learning to love the Capitol and President Snow. His teachers, trainers, and parents had always preached him about how lucky the Capitol was, and how it was a marvelous place. But now, the Reiss boy thought something different from what his authorities back home. If the Capitol was such a marvelous, lucky place, why didn't they share their supplies with the Districts? After all, sharing was caring. This small fact proved that they were selfish and greedy, and didn't care about the other part of Panem. The part that was poorer, less informed, and weaker. The Districts had people living off the streets, in poverty, parentless and homeless. Clarence doubted the Capitol had anyone who lived like that.

It was all the information he needed to make his decision. "As long as I get to see my family again, I'm in." Clarence amended to the elder woman, who for the first time smiled at him gently in turn.

"Don't worry, you will." Her face softened. "It's hard, though. They might not accept you for who you are now. I know my parents turned me away. Imagine that - a teenage girl living all alone in her house in Victor's Village! Many others thought I was living the good life. But in a way it was worse than it was before."

The short story saddened Clarence to no ends. Wiress must've been going through hard times. A thought struck him like a lightning bolt, with no mere light to hold onto for hope: _what if my mother turns me away, knowing that I have the blood of five people in my hands? What if I'm not welcome in District One anymore?_ Clarence shook his head. That could never happen. If he was raised by only his father, then that would probably happen, but his mother was a factor in this as well. After all, she was the one who _enrolled_ him in the Training Center there. She wouldn't turn him away. Clarence wanted to hear more of Wiress' story. "Oh? Can you elaborate?"

Wiress' expression changed into a far-off one. "I won my Games at 17 years old. What an adventurous girl I was - always trying to rebel against the Peacekeepers back in my day!" She shook her head with a slight smile. "But those were the days. I was Reaped for the Hunger Games. I was scared, definitely. During Training, I tried every weapon. Nothing seemed to work out for me. It was hard."

Clarence nodded sympathetically, trying to use empathy to put himself in her shoes. He had never understood the struggle of not getting something right. Everything always seemed to go his way. He won everything; he was good-looking; he was charming. Things just came easy to him. But Wiress was starting to make him understand that he originally had to work his way up from a sword novice to an expert. He just hadn't noticed it before.

The brown-haired woman went on with her story. "I was one of the older ones, but all the younger kids seemed to be better. I was under pressure. Even the simplest of the weapons - the sword and knife - I couldn't master. Everything was just so surreal - I was going into the Games. I was one of the forgettable, disliked ones. Completely flubbed my interview. I was predicted to die pretty early on." She continued in a short, clipped tone.

"I wasn't rebellious anymore; I was just plain fearful. I wasn't trained like a Career. I wasn't anyone special, specific, or particular. I was just me, Wiress. During the Bloodbath, I ran away, but came back later that night. I still managed to get supplies, and it was a good strategy."

"And then what?"

"The Games was only three days long, surprisingly. It was still stuffed to the gills with mutts, traps; the whole enchilada. I only got one kill." Wiress' voice softened towards the end. "I was sponsored by my mentor with some nuts, bolts, and wires. It came with a note saying that I was to build a trap, if I wanted to win. Some kind of mechanism that would take out tributes. And so I did. In Final Two, I managed to make my victim go straight into the trap. And I won."

Clarence was surprised by how interesting her story was. He ought to listen to every Victor's story, sometime. They all had things in common; they had won their Hunger Games, but they all had different paths in life, Therefore, every Victor's story would be different. He didn't question anymore about what happened with her family. He just responded, instead, "Thanks." But there was so much meaning squeezed out behind that one word.

One word had power, and power was also one word. One word could describe anything, like an adjective. _Blue. Pretty. Rough._ But one word was sure to describe Clarence Reiss' life. It was the word _confusing._

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Clarence Reiss: "** _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by** _ **Taylor Swift)**_

* * *

 **Hi! What do you think about Clarence? Is your opinion of the strong, brave him changing? Now we are seeing a different side to him. A more sympathetic, kind, and caring side.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but I'm sorry about the delay. School's end is quickly approaching, so I'll have plenty of time to update then.**

" **A Spell Broken" is almost over! Maybe just a few more chapters! I can't wait to get started on "The Home of the Brave" soon.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, everyone!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	44. Chapter 44 - Aftermath

**Chapter 44 - Posted on ( 6/12/16)**

* * *

 **Clarence Reiss**

 _ **District One Male. 18 years old.**_

* * *

" _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **We are never, ever, ever getting back together,**_

 _ **You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me**_

 _ **But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."**_

* * *

Clarence couldn't help it - he yawned loudly, without covering his mouth.

Prim turned to him, lasers almost shooting out of her eyes. "Do that again, and Panem will be watching your funeral today after all." Clarence rolled his eyes and tuned back into the conversation, but he was secretly amused. _I didn't know Primrose had so much power in her. I wonder what would happen if I defied her - she's only 14 years old, after all. I'm a full four years older than her._ But he didn't.

The young blonde once again glared at him, but continued talking. "Here's the plan. We have to break in while no one is in there, switch out everything and whatnot. And we get our friends back." She met everyone's eyes and jutted out her chin. "Are any cowards opting out?"

There was a complete silence, followed by some uncomfortable shifting around. Clarence could tell some people weren't all into the plan, but they probably had no choice. Or else Prim would blow up in anger.

"Good." The Everdeen girl said, and pulled her black hood of her jacket over her head. Everyone quietly did the same. They didn't want to be recognized this time, not for the life of them. They would be screwed if they jinxed this up - maybe _literally_ , if President Snow got his hands on them.

She silently handed him a jar of purple liquid, which was very important and essential to the mission succeeding. Clarence followed in suit by placing it strategically into his pocket. If he lost it, it all may have been for nothing. The whole mission.

Prim walked to the door, and placed her hand over the doorknob. Before she twisted it, she turned to look at them. "Does anyone need me to go over the plan again? After we open this door, there's no turning back, and I want to make sure we got it down."

Clarence shook his head, likewise everyone around him. He knew it by heart, knew the substantial position he played on the team. His job right now was even more important than the leader's. He was risking his life.

She shrugged, and proceeded to open the door, and she looked left and right. Turning back to them, she mouthed, _the coast is clear._ Then Prim trotted out, aware of everything around her. Clarence followed next. He was scared, with no doubt. At the same time, he felt excited; his senses were sharpened. Getting his friends back was much more exciting than sitting around and worrying, which was apparently what the rest of the Victors had been doing before he came along.

The group stayed in a tight pack, bracing themselves every time they turned a corner. They didn't want to make the mistake of splitting up, like last time. Now the situation was altered so that they would all die together; they were a package deal. All of them or none of them.

Before they travelled to Snow's office to get the captured Victors - where Prim suspected they would be - she turned down the corridor which lead to the chemistry lab. Clarence quietly followed, but inside, there was a giant lump in his throat. It was almost his turn; where he would demonstrate the skills of a true Victor. It was going to be his moment.

Before long, they came upon the door. Enobaria, who was in the front of the group with a pocketknife in hand, tugged on the doorknob. It opened easily, without her having to her to pick the lock. It was apparently unlocked. She exchanged an uneasy look with Prim, who kept her gaze firm.

"No time for hesitating. We may not have locked it behind us after last time, anyway."

Enobaria stepped in into the lab after a short period of reluct hesitation, and headed straight for the vault. Clarence elbowed his way to the front of the group, where he would be expected to do what he came to do. They had planned it out in full. As Prim said before, no turning back now. This was his moment.

The group waited through the tense silence as Beetee stepped forward, fiddling with the fine object. The door swung open within seconds, narrowly avoiding hitting Prim. She jumped backwards, but was relieved when there was no immediate danger. "Well, let's take a look at everything." She said breezily, and reached into the vault, pulling out the _D1_ vial and handing it to Clarence.

Even without a moment's hesitation, he popped open the cork and placed the open container on the table next to him. Then he reached into his pocket and fingered the jar he had been given moments before. Clarence pulled that out as well, and twisted the cap, allowing it to be opened. He smiled grimly despite himself as he poured the contents of the _D1_ vial down the sink. After that, he filled the now empty jar with the liquid in the jar gifted to him by Prim. _President Snow will never see it coming._

It was certain that the President never would. In fact, there was no difference between the two substances at all. Unless you knew what you were looking for.

The liquid that was now in the _D1_ jar was just water, colored with purple food coloring. It was a precise, exact carbon copy of the contagious disease mixture. For now, at the very least, District One would be safe from bodily harm. Now he just had to do it twelve more times, including the _D13_ jar.

The best fighter of the group, Finnick Odair himself, stood apprehensively by the door. He was anxious when he heard footsteps pounding on the tiled floor outside, but it passed quickly. The Victors were silent and observant as Clarence returned the _D1_ vial and moved onto the next District.

The whole process was taking a short amount of time, but Prim was wordlessly urging the 18 year old on with her eyes. She was nervous for the whole operation. If they got caught, she would obviously be indicated as the leader of the group, and she would be the first to die. Perhaps she would go painfully. For President Snow, dying easily was not an option.

As Clarence finished up, the door burst open - _literally._ Almost as if an explosion, the door cracked and debris flew everywhere. Finnick, who was closest to the entryway, staggered back in surprise. An armed Peacekeeper just about zoomed in, a gun in his hands, and he pointed it at them dangerously.

Clarence was the first to react. He rushed towards the man, seemingly matching the speed of light, and reached the armed man. The most recent Victor might've been trained in the sword and knife skills the most, but after years of training in District One he had picked up a few hand-to-hand combat skills. With a lightning-fast kick, he knocked the gun right out of the Peacekeeper's hands. Finnick got back into the right state of mind, joining Clarence. Together, the duo fought against the man. Unfortunately, the two Victors couldn't use the gun because the Peacekeeper had every inch of his body covered. There was no kink, no weak spot in the armor.

Finnick saw an opening, and went for it moments later. He drew closer swiftly and roughly yanked the Peacekeeper's helmet off. Without bothering to marvel at who the young, blonde-haired man beneath the disguise was, he simply punched the man right in the face, hearing a satisfying crack. Moments later, the unmasked Peacekeeper was lying on the floor, out cold.

Prim ambulated closer for a better view of the problem at hand, careful not to step on the ruined remains of the door. The door was broken, shattered even, beyond repair; there were nails, hinges, and jagged pieces of wood littering the ground. She whispered, almost as if the knocked out Peacekeeper could still be listening, "It's weird, seeing a Peacekeeper without his helmet. It's like they are regular people, just like us."

Wiress voiced what they were all thinking. "But what separates them from us is that inside, they have a cold heart made of stone." The group nodded uneasily. To them, anyone in the Capitol was a bad guy.

Clarence reached down and scooped the discarded gun off from the ground. He pocketed it, and then gestured to the rest of the rebel group. "Come on. If he was coming, there must be some of his friends heading towards us now."

They followed him without another word, not bothering to send a second glance over their shoulders at the mess they had left in the chemistry lab. But deep inside, they knew: If someone found out that they were the ones who caused the debris, they were dead.

Completely dead.

* * *

Clarence and Finnick were bringing up the rear of the group. But Finnick had an acute sense of hearing. He stiffened for a moment, and Prim turned to him anxiously. She opened her mouth but he sprang forward and clapped a hand over it. Finnick whispered out of the corner of his mouth, barely audible: "Someone's coming."  
There was simply nowhere to go. The Victors looked around in confusion, but eventually tried to blend in with the wall, which was impossible because they were wearing black and the walls were a creamy, beige color. But that was the best they could do for now. Clarence crossed his fingers behind his back - and even his toes - for luck that it wasn't a Peacekeeper. _Maybe I just got lucky last time, and if it's another Peacekeeper he'll be armed with a gun, and we might not be as lucky._ Please _don't be a Peacekeeper…_

But it wasn't. The moment he saw something - or should he say _someone_ else - he leaped forward and pointed the gun at them.

Clarence was shocked as soon as his eyes registered who he was pointing the gun at. It was Azuria Barslow; Master of Ceremonies. He couldn't believe it. He wanted desperately to put the gun down, but something was telling him not to. Something was telling him to _kill_ her.

The two 18 year olds stared at each other in a brief silence. Azuria looked frightened, fearful, and mostly unprepared; she held a glass of water and had been raising it to her lips before she spotted Clarence. The other 18 year old looked the picture of determination; with a steely look in his eyes and an firm gaze. But the Reiss' hand was betraying him. It was shaking.

Beetee spoke up, surprisingly speaking the words that no one thought he would. "Kill her, Clarence. Kill her now." He turned to the others, raising his volume, and he no longer cared if anyone heard him. In fact, Beetee _wanted_ the Capitol to hear out his words, which were filled to the brim with a rebellious passion. "The Capitol had done nothing for us. Why spare them now? Why when we can start our new era, right now?"

He turned on his heel so he was facing Clarence again. "Kill Azuria. She'll be our first step in our long process to making Panem great again."

Azuria unfroze, and her expression morphed into an angry one. She seemed upset at all of them, but her acrimony was mostly directed to Beetee Latier. "Why?" She yelled, her voice echoing throughout the hallways. "Why do you want to kill me? Just because I'm from the Capitol? Can't you see that _I didn't do anything wrong?"_

Azuria glared at him. "Just because I live here doesn't mean that I'm some kind of criminal!" And the dam broke. She began to cry angry tears; mad at the world, mad at her life, mad at President Snow.

Finnick reached out to her with his arms, a concerned look on his face. "Keep it down, will you." He hissed, but it was more like a demand than a question. "People will hear us!"  
"They better!" Azuria replied, wiping her nose on her arm. "You are just a prejudiced fool who doesn't know that not everyone is bad. You just care about the Districts ruling! I agree with you that President Snow isn't the best ruler, but you're insane!"

Prim stepped forward, a sliver of hope fluttering in her heart. She ignored Azuria's tears, and addressed the older girl in a calmer, much more rational tone than the ones Finnick and Beetee used. "Did you say President Snow's not a good leader?"  
"I-I guess. Why?"

"We're going to stop him. He captured our friends. We're going to get them back."

There was the sound of silence, quiet yet the loudest thing in the room, that followed. The only thing that could be heard was the sniffing of Azuria, and finally, her loud, thoughtful exhale.

Azuria spoke softly, as if deep in thought. "So I guess you'd know better than anyone how bad he is." She laughed bitterly. "No wonder you didn't trust me before."

Clarence finally, _finally_ lowered the gun to his side. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine, I guess. Best to brush it off and start new." Azuria turned to Prim. "So when do we start?"

Clarence almost dropped the gun in shock. "Hold the phone. There is no _we._ The deal is, you let us go without a word. I don't kill you. We never cross paths again. Capiche?"

Ignoring the statement, the Master of Ceremonies continued. "You need a Capitol person on your side, anyhow. You don't know this building as well as I do - or _anything_ as well as I do, for that matter."

Before everyone could start to complain and disagree, Prim took charge. "I think that's a great idea." She responded, without even bothering to look at the rest of her group for agreement. Azuria smiled gratefully.

Mutters and subtle murmurs of complaint could be heard, but Primrose silenced them with a look. "Be nice." She warned, with that look in her eyes saying that she would not hesitate to kill anyone who stepped out of line.

Azuria stood in the front of the group, treading down the hallway to President Snow's office. She sighed heavily, and placed her hand on the doorknob, in a similar fashion as to what Prim did before they left Lynx's hospital room. "Brace yourself for whatever's in here."

Enobaria stopped her with a worried look on her face. "Don't you think it's odd that every door was came across, was unlocked? What if someone _wants_ us to go here?"

Beetee snorted. "A bait? Impossible." But even he sounded uncertain.

Azuria shrugged, and told them to be on guard. And she flung the door open.

Clarence's couldn't register the view fast enough, but the bullet whizzing towards him was self explanatory. _I knew that it was going to be a trap!_ Due to his quick reflexes, he pushed Azuria and Prim aside, and himself as well. The bullet narrowly avoided hitting the three of them.

However, Wiress wasn't fast enough. The bullet made its mark - slamming right into her chest. She fell forward, toppling onto the floor like a pushed domino. "Wiress!" He cried out. Clarence was surprised that he even cared; he was a former Career. He wasn't supposed to care. But something about Wiress was different. Something about her made him want to protect her

Finnick was already snapping forward, lunging through the door and at the offender. He called half-heartedly over his shoulder to Clarence, "She's fine! _Move!"_

Clarence was still rooted to the spot, frozen into place by shock. There was only one thought bouncing around his brain, rattling his skull: _That could've been me._ But a shove forward from Prim snapped him back to reality, that the man who shot Wiress was reloading the gun and was preparing to fire again.

This time at Finnick.

Before he knew what he was doing, the Reiss sprang forward and was on his feet, running. He noticed vaguely that Prim was running, too. So was Beetee, so was Azuria, so was Brutus and Enobaria, and everyone else who could get on their feet and run. The last straw had been broken, but it was more way than broken; it was twisted like a thicket, mangled beyond repair. They needed to stop the madness.

The rebel group moved as one, surging forward with cries of "Don't!" Finnick's determined expression on his facial features only wobbled for about a fraction of a second before coming back strong. He yelled over the chaos for Clarence to toss him his gun, and Clarence obliged, throwing it over everyone's heads. Finnick caught it swiftly, quickly checked if it was ready to fire another shot, and pointed it at the assaulter.

And their plan fell just short of victory, once everyone noticed just _who_ fired at Wiress. It was President Snow.

The ruling man couldn't look any more powerful; he was a mask of calm, and an aura of authority was just rolling off of him. President Snow's white hair was the exact opposite color of his soul; black. Snow's soul was black.

The gun wobbled in Finnick's hands. "S-stop." The District Four Male whispered, stammering over his words. Clarence didn't blame him; he was just as frightened as his friend. The Odair was staring at the face of death.

President Snow laughed - but there was no mirth evident in it. It was just bitter, which was the perfect word to describe the President's heart. "Oh, yeah?" He challenged. "And who's going to stop me?"

He gestured out at the rebel group, frozen as if their shoes were glued to the floor. "Your crew is standing still. No one cares about you. No one wants to protect you."

A bit of strength and courage trailed back into Finnick's tone. "Let Gloss, Johanna, Cashmere, and Seeder go. Right now. I don't wish for a fight, but I will battle you if I have to."

The President clucked his tongue. "You're missing someone."

With horror, the puzzle pieces clicked in Prim's mind. Her voice was choked up, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying. "You took Haymitch."

Snow nodded calmly, as if they were discussing something as simple as the weather. "Yes, I have."

Prim lunged at him, seemingly losing her sanity. She was a picture of outrage. " _You took Haymitch! You!"_ Clarence restrained her from going by holding her back. She turned on the 18 year old. "Let me go! Let me kill him!"

"No, you'll get yourself hurt." Clarence answered, surprisingly sounding calm amidst all his surprise and anger at the white-haired man. "Worse, maybe."

President Snow ignored the little conversation and angled himself so he could see everyone. He chortled when he saw Azuria, one of his very own, working with the opposing team. However, he didn't seem the least bit offended. "Turned over to the dark side, I see." He made an disapproving face; as if _that_ would suddenly make Azuria have a change of heart.

Azuria performed a safe tactic, choosing not to respond, but President Snow had other things in mind to get her riled up.

"You were never a good Master of Ceremonies. In fact, I was thinking of firing you. Remind me, why did I hire you again?"

The 18 year old female clenched and unclenched her fists, in attempt to keep calm. It wasn't working very well in her favor. "Because I was born into it." She whispered, barely audible. Azuria was clearly nervous as to what President Snow might do to her now.

"Speak up, honey." He ordered. There was, obviously, no sweetness in his voice. Snow clearly didn't mean saying _honey_. It was just a subtle insult. To him, _everything_ was an insult.

Azuria spoke up, much louder this time. "Caesar Flickerman was my uncle. I was his niece. Therefore, I was born into it."

President Snow snorted. "Pity. You were never a good Master of Ceremonies. Even your so-called uncle could do so much better than you." He stepped closer to her so he was speaking right into Azuria's ear. She flinched as his warm breath tickled her. "So much better." He repeated.

Clarence shoved the President away - _hard._ Snow pitched forward a few steps, but gradually regained his balance. "Don't speak to my friends that way." He spat at the so-called ruler of Panem.

Snow turned on the Reiss, slowly but surely pointing his gun at the young man. "And what's this?" He asked, to no one in particular. "The most recent Victor, with his other friends? Can't seem to catch a break from danger, can you?"

Clarence answered, his voice filled his swagger and confidence. " _You're_ just about to experience danger, old man." He was well aware he may be risking his life, but he had no other choice. Clarence aimed a karate chop at the President's wrist, causing Snow's hold on the gun to wobble, but it didn't work as well as Clarence hoped. He did not drop the gun.

With a start, he realized his life was in danger now. Snow loomed over him, the muzzle of the gun practically resting on Clarence's nose. The 18 year old went cross-eyed trying to look at it. Clarence broke his gaze away from the gun and looked over his offender's shoulder, at Finnick. He gestured with his eyes for the District Four Male to shoot, while Snow's back was turned.

Snow snapped, "Don't try to tell him to shoot me. Don't you think I know your motives?" He clucked his tongue yet again.

Enobaria was silently reaching into her pocket. With a start, Clarence realized that there was hope after all. Enobaria must have some kind of weapon in her pocket! Maybe he wasn't going to die today, after all!

President Snow's attention was not on the District Two Victor. He was busy trying to intimidate Clarence. Clarence wasn't paying any mind to the insults being sprinkled down on him. All he cared about was that something could get him out of this situation alive. He desperately _needed_ Enobaria to have something to help him out here.

Enobaria pulled out a knife, and Clarence easily recognized it as a throwing knife. He wordlessly, speechlessly pleaded on the older woman with his eyes, telling her to throw now.

She did. And it hit right in the middle of President Snow's back.

His vise-like grip loosened and faltered on the gun, but that was all Clarence needed. The last remains of the fear dissipating, Clarence's leg shot up and he kicked the dangerous weapon away from the even more dangerous man.

The gun skidded away and flew right towards Azuria. She gripped it in both hands, and looked unsure of what to do with it.

Meanwhile, Finnick shot his gun and the bullet whizzed in the air, on crash course with the white-haired man. The shot rang in everyone's ears, echoing like it was ricocheting in a vast cave. Before Snow could whip around and dodge, it buried itself into the soft flesh of his left arm. Clarence smiled, only imagining the pain flaring up the President's arm at the moment.

Even as President Snow sustained both injuries, he was seemingly unstoppable. He tore the knife from out of his back, oblivious to the blood gushing out of the wound, and aimed it at Beetee. Snow threw it.

Beetee was quite old - he didn't move in time. However, Snow wasn't as trained or priorly-experienced in weapons as the others were, and the knife only made its mark in Beetee's hand. However, it was enough to anger Prim again. This time in a good way.

Prim rushed toward President Snow's desk and grabbed the most dangerous thing she could find, which unfortunately wasn't that much; a glass vase holding several roses in it. However, when it was placed in Prim's hands, it became a lethal weapon. She raised the vase over her head and smashed it - as hard as she could - down on President Snow's head. She kept doing it; raising and smashing, raising and smashing. Her eyes were burning with angry tears. Primrose Everdeen cried out in anguish, suffer, and hurt, "Don't hurt Beetee! Don't you ever lay a finger on one of my friends or one of my family members again!"

The vase shattered, sending bits of broken glass everyone. The roses fell out of the glass container, falling onto Snow. The thorns of the pretty, yet perilous, flower stabbed Snow. He was bleeding; bleeding everywhere. Blood stained his white hair. The sticky, red substance streamed down his back, his neck, and dripped onto the floor.

And then Coriolanus Snow fell forwards, his dead body hitting the ground with a _thud._

And then it was over.

* * *

 **9 years later**

* * *

The crying of a baby girl filled the air, and rang out through the meadows and fields beyond. Many people would've thought it was annoying. However, Clarence Reiss didn't think so, for two reasons; one, after President Snow was gone, he learned to appreciate and value even the smallest things in life, and; two, how could he grow annoyed at his own first child?

Clarence's wife, Azuria Barslow-Reiss, drifted over from where she had been inspecting the flowers on their lawn. She automatically smiled as soon as she saw baby Celeste, and she reached towards her daughter. "Do you want a break for now?" She asked Clarence, her husband. He nodded, and let her take the baby from his arms. They sat side-by-side, with only Celeste between them. The newborn quieted as soon as Azuria began tickling her child's feet. Clarence smiled as he looked at his beautiful wife and pretty daughter.

He was 27 years old now, much older, wiser, and mature than he had been when President Snow was ruling. He still had nightmares, and remembered the fear he had felt, from time to time. But he mostly didn't think about it. Clarence wanted to enjoy his life as much as he possibly could within the short amount of time he may be living.

Panem was under much better rule now that Primrose Everdeen was President. Clarence felt genuine relief that the young woman was ruling the country; yes, she was young, but she had lots of power behind her words. After being the one credited for killing the wild President Snow, Prim had developed into a lioness, rather than a mouse. She had learned to have a voice.

As for Lynx, she hadn't made it. Shortly after President Snow had died, news had leaked out that Lynx's heart had just stopped. Clarence felt sorrow for the young mentor, dead at 17 years old. However, he was just glad he could be living in happiness. He could've been in Lynx's place, if it was in an alternate universe.

Eagle was gone. The rebel group of mentors had gone and hunted them down next, and the leader, some girl named Lynn, had been killed by Clarence's own hands. There was assuring that something like trying to raise old America back wouldn't happen again.

Now Districts were free to hop onto the train and visit anywhere they wanted, whenever they wanted. Finnick Odair and his wife, Annie, often came to the Reiss household. Clarence's old childhood friends often stopped by to visit, too. But he had outgrown his immature, cocky teenagehood; where he had been a bit arrogant and, in short, girl-crazy. He had settled down, and with the woman he loved the most.

While Clarence distracted by his thoughts, Azuria kissed his cheek softly. "I love you, Clarence." She said softly, as she had done many times before. She had said those magical words the day of their engagement, and the day of their wedding. Those four words were overwhelmingly powerful, and they changed Clarence's world forever.

"I love you too, Azuria."

And so the new family sat on their lawn, watching the beautiful sunset. The sky was a mix of so many colors; salmon pink, orange, even a subtle red. Beyond that was the sun, which made life in Panem possible. Anything could be a mix; even a human being. A human being had so many emotions - joyfulness, sadness, anger, pain, and shame. Clarence had experienced all of the above several times before, especially during his time after the arena.

But right now, Clarence Reiss just wanted to be happy.

* * *

 **Song(s) Used -**

 **Clarence Reiss: "** _ **We Are Never Getting Back Together"**_ **(sung by** _ **Taylor Swift)**_

* * *

 **The 76th Hunger Games Statistics**

 **Year:** 76th

 **Head Gamemaker:** Claire Cypress

 **Length:** 7 days

 **Youngest Tribute(s):** Kinsie Surge

 **Older Tribute(s):** Clarence Reiss, Hestia Gabbro, Vulcan Hardy, Casey Taurus, Quince Lazarre, Lignite Parker

 **Most Common Age(s):** 16.0416667

* * *

 **Final Standings**

 **24th Place -** Zoe Mercedes

 **23rd Place -** Rowan Mattock

 **22nd Place -** Casimir Moretti

 **21st Place -** Taurus Whittaker

 **20th Place -** Huxley Cathode

 **19th Place -** Louis Lindbergh

 **18th Place -** Dylan Tweed

 **17th Place -** Celine Woodman

 **16th Place -** Kinsie Surge

 **15th Place -** Casey Taurus

 **14th Place -** Delia Montgomery

 **13th Place -** Eudora Macintosh

 **12th Place -** Isobel Wild

 **11th Place -** Quince Lazarre

 **10th Place -** Bay Riverside

 **9th Place -** Hestia Gabbro

 **8th Place -** Ebony Williams

 **7th Place -** Rosemary Fields

 **6th Place -** Vulcan Hardy

 **5th Place -** Jayda Newell

 **4th Place -** Roy Lentz

 **3rd Place -** Lignite Parker

 **2nd Place -** Azalea Sequins

 **Victor:** Clarence Reiss

* * *

 **Shoutouts**

 **Crystal (dreams and desperation):** Thank you so much for being my first review _ever_ and sending me my first tribute ever! You gave me amazing support which helped me get through my story and I can't thank you enough. Keep being amazing :)

 **WizardDemigodGladerGatekeeper:** You were one of the sole reasons I decided to write a SYOT in the first place, and I thank you so much for that. You gave me support too, and you are simply an amazing person. Thank you so much!  
 **Astronaughty:** Thanks for creating the blog for me! It honestly looks amazing, and you are a great person who supports me so much. You've help me get past some writer's block with your support and whenever you give me a compliment it just puts a smile on my face. Thank you again!

 **Mystical Pine Forest:** Thank you so much for being a consistent reviewer. I know it takes guts to do that! You reviewed almost every single one of my chapters and have been with me every single step of the way on this _A Spell Broken_ journey. Thanks for being amazing!

 **Submitters:** I wouldn't have been here without you guys, and I thank you so much for submitting to my first ever story. _A Spell Broken_ wouldn't have been the same without you :)

 **Readers:** You guys rock! You have given me so much support and compliments and honestly, I'm flattered! I hope you continue to read _The Home of the Brave,_ my other SYOT. Thanks for believing in me :)

* * *

 **Sadly, this marks the end of our long journey. Again, thank you guys so much for believing in me! I hope you guys can one day write SYOTs because I'd definitely submit to them :)**

 **Did you expect that ending? What were your favorite parts in the whole story? Have I improved?**

 **I'd like to keep this short and sweet, so here's to saying bye for the last time.**

' **Bye :)**

 **~ Red Roses1000**


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